The White Mask
by Freedan the Eternal
Summary: A looming empire on its border, and violent cult among its citizens, Hyrule's peace is once again broken. Accompanied by a new generation of heroes, a tired and aged Link must pick up his sword to lead the fight against the darkness one last time...
1. Chapter 1

**The Legend of Zelda: The White Mask**

**Written by Freedan**

AUTHOR'S NOTE: This is a sequel to my other fic, the Silent Kingdom. You will not have to have read that to understand the events of this one, but there is a great deal of character relationships and such that will make more sense if you know those events, as I don't plan to spend pages and pages recapping those events in detail. Again, if new readers want to start here, I think it'll be fine, but I also think those who have read that story will get a lot more out of this one. Anyway, I hope you all enjoy regardless!

* * *

"_If you know the enemy and know yourself, you need not fear the result of a hundred battles._

_If you know yourself but not the enemy, for every victory gained you will also suffer a defeat._

_If you know neither the enemy nor yourself, you will succumb in every battle."_

_\- _Sun Tzu

**Chapter 1: A New Dawn**

The Riastad Empire lay to the east of Hyrule. Far enough away it did not concern the thoughts of the average citizen, but not far enough for it to not be a threat. And it had been a threat for generations, and a rapidly growing one. An imperialistic nation, steadily devouring the smaller kingdoms that surrounded it over four generations, all until Emperor Paldorn was wounded in battle against the empire's greatest foe to date.

On the eastern side of the empire lay the lands of the Bahdi. Vicious and mighty warriors, the Bahdi's lands were half the size of the empire at the time, and their military outnumbered, but the snake-men of the east were deadly foes, each worth three or more human soldiers in battle through their superior speed and strength. And Sultan Graza was no fool, a strategist well worth his name, he had countered every move the empire made into their lands and brought the invasion to a halt.

While the Bahdi did not have the numbers to invade the empire itself, it would go down in history as a monumental victory, and Emperor Paldorn's days were numbered. He would not recover from his wound, and would die in bed several weeks later.

His only heir was his son Maximilian, a boy of fifteen. And when Maximilian took the throne, others saw it as their chance to seize power. No boy would be able to lead, especially not when the empire fractured into over a dozen small pieces, all vying for a larger piece of what the past four emperors had build.

And just to be certain, one of the rebel factions turned on the capital, intent on Maximilian's head. But then the impossible occurred. The loyal defenders of the empire did not just turn back the attack, but under Maximilian's leadership, they fought to victory, capturing the rebel leaders and seizing back a portion of the fractured nation.

The traitors were made an example of, and then Maximilian launched his own campaign. One by one, rebels fell to his forces, and imperial lands were returned to their proper ruler, until the rebels recognized this threat and ceased fighting each other, uniting against him.

But it was too late. The loyalist forces were growing by the day. Boy or not, Maximilian had his foothold, and the rebels lost more ground with each passing week. The empire was very large, however, and it would take eight years before this campaign reached its eventual conclusion.

And at the end of those eight years, Maximilian now stood before the city of Carthus, its walls breached and his troops storming into the streets. The screams of the populace fleeing in terror could be heard even at this distance. But the common populace were not his focus, because in this city were the last surviving leaders of this rebellion that had taken him eight years to crush.

Footsteps approached from behind him, but he did not turn, knowing who it would be.

"The city is fallen, your majesty," General Tilus said from behind him, "Our troops are moving through the streets and securing the districts. It's only a matter of time until we find Count Mazeth and his subordinates.

"Thank you, general," Maximilian said, "And how are our troops behaving?"

"It will be difficult to be certain until the city is secure, but initial observations is that crimes they commit in the process are at an all time low," Tilus said, "A few cases have occurred, but the observers have moved in and made the arrests."

"Standard punishments," Maximilian said, "Looters shall lose a finger and rapists are to be castrated."

"As you command, my lord," Tilus replied.

"An empire must be built on discipline, and that includes my own troops," Maximilian said, "Examples must be made of those refuse to comply."

Tilus knew what his lord meant, having seen a large number of these examples made over the course of this campaign. But at long last it was at its end. Tilus turned as footsteps came at a run up the hill next to them, to see a messenger from the officers in the city.

"My lord!" the messenger saluted, though the emperor did not turn to face him, "Count Mazeth has surrendered and been taken into custody! He expresses a wish to capitulate!"

"Does he now?" Maximilian said, not taking his eyes from the city, "Very well, inform your commanding officer to bring the count and his subordinates here, but keep their arms bound."

The messenger saluted again, and with a bow to the general, turned and departed at a run.

"General, it's time to make examples," Maximilian said.

The general raised his arm, signalling others nearby, who relayed the order, and preparations were underway.

It was nearly half an hour passed before the count and the three men who made up his inner circle of advisors and allies were marched to the hilltop, their hands bound behind their backs, with six soldiers behind them with swords drawn, should they try to run, and the captain who had accepted their surrender with them. The captain saluted and bowed to the general and emperor, and now Maximilian finally turned away from the city, facing the count.

"Count Mazeth, it has been a long time, hasn't it?" Maximilian said, "The last time I saw you, there wasn't nearly as much gray in your hair."

"And last I saw you, you didn't even fit your new throne, my lord," the count replied, "You've filled out and become quite the man, if I may."

The emperor was a twenty-three year old man now, still barely more than a child compared to many of those who surrounded him, yet behind those brown eyes lurked a dangerously intelligent mind that was leading his men to victory even when he was but a boy of fifteen. And standing there now in full plate armor, sword hanging at his hip, and golden crown on his head, his blonde hair visible over its edges, he looked every inch the emperor his title implied.

"Yes, count," Maximilian said, "My throne. The one you sought to steal. You and every other piss-ant of a lord who decided they wanted more than was their own."

"You have my deepest apologies, my lord," the count said, "Please understand, you were but a boy, and the pressures of ruling a nation-"

"Were never yours to begin with," the emperor finished, interrupting the count, "Eight years, count. Eight years that could have been spent growing the empire and returning our nation to glory after my father's defeat at the hands of the Bahdi. Eight years that I had to spend chasing you and your ilk from one end of my rightful lands to the other.

"And now that you're cornered and have nowhere left to run, you surrender at least. You're not better than a dog that only stops barking when it realizes the only other alternative is far more painful."

Those watching this exchange had varying opinions on what came next. Some believed the count was doomed before it began, and others though the count may have saved his life had he quietly accepted the berating, and not bristled against it. But all that mattered was he did try to argue, to bring down the emperor from his high seat.

"And what of you? You've made quite the name for yourself these past years," the count said, "Do you even know what the common people call you? They live in terror of the name you've created."

"They call me Max the Impaler," Maximilian said, "Not exactly the most original title, but not an inaccurate one."

The count heard footsteps behind him, but dared not turn. There was a thud of something heavy being dropped to the ground. There were move, moving into place behind the other prisoners.

"This is not the end, boy," the count said, "You're a tyrant. The people will not tolerate a tyrant long, and it will be you losing your head for a change."

"The common people are not my enemy," Maximilian said, "They never have been. Those that are loyal are valued members of the empire. But I cannot abide traitors, and I will make examples of traitors as many times as I have to."

Screams came from behind the count, as his allies became such examples.

"Forget tyrant," the count growled, "You're a monster."

"No," Maximilian said, and gestured upward with his thumb.

The count cried out in agony at the pain, the sharp wooden stake piercing his lower back, aimed upward inside his rib-cage, and his feet left the ground as the base of the stake was pushed into the ground. He was hoisted skyward, the point of the stake too wide to pass out the front of his ribs, and he was held aloft by his own bones, his body screaming in agony as he gurgled on blood from his pierced lung. The men lifting him shifted the base into hole they had dug in preparation for the signal, and kicked dirt around the base to ensure it would not fall over, and the body would hang ten feet high, visible to all around the hill.

"I am Max the gods damned Impaler," Maximilian stated as he watched the count's legs kick and struggle, growing weaker with each futile struggle, before finally becoming still.

And the four of them were there, held high on the stakes piercing their backs, the examples of what happened to traitors. With a word from the general, the soldiers gathered saluted and then dispersed, leaving only the general and the emperor on the hill together with the dying traitors.

"Now, general," Maximilian turned to Tilus, "We can finish securing the city, then see about the next step. This campaign is officially finished, it's time to look to the next."

"Should we not wait and let the nation rest, my lord?" Tilus asked, "It has been eight years of war."

"No, we must strike while the iron is hot, or we risk losing our momentum," the emperor said, "But your loyal service will be rewarded. Your people will be granted lands to call their own, as you desired, and the Rito will all be welcomed as full citizens of the empire."

"Thank you my lord," the Rito general said, saluting with one wing across his heart and bowing his head.

"And you personally were already the most titled of your people, not to mention the wealthiest," the emperor said, "So tell me general, who are the greatest threat to our nation now?"

"That would be the Bahdi, my lord," Tilus said, raising his head, "They're the only nation with a sizable enough army to pose a threat, and the fact they are stronger physically than humans make them dangerous in combat. It can take five or more of our soldiers just to bring down a single one of theirs. In addition, your father's ignominious defeat at there hands is a blight on the empire's history."

"Indeed, but they will require our full attention," Maximilian said, "However, another kingdom has been growing in power rapidly in the past twenty years or so, on our other side."

"The only nation there is Hyrule, my lord," Tilus said, "It is a small nation, barely worth our notice. Unless, has it been allying with or absorbing the city-states of the west coast?"

"No, but according to rumor, they possess a deadly weapon," Maximilian said, "A spellcaster capable of destroying entire armies, entire cities, with but a word."

"Rumors only, my lord," Tilus said, "No such wizard exists. The last such being was called the King of Darkness, and I don't believe he was anything more than a legend."

"I would rather determine that myself and have it be proven false than ignore it and be caught by surprise," Maximilian said, "So long as there is a possiblity, Hyrule is a threat we cannot ignore. I can't turn my back on them to deal with the Bahdi until we know they are no threat to us."

"What would you have me do, my lord?" Tilus asked.

"Two possibilities exist," Maximilian said, "We can take Hyrule by military force, but if the rumor is true, that will be a very costly undertaking. As for the other..."

* * *

Morning came to Hyrule, and the queen woke to the knock at her door. She'd requested an early wakeup today, and her chambermaid was doing just that.

"I'm awake, Tella, thank you," Zelda called out, "Come back in ten minutes."

There was a sound of acknowledgment, barely audible through the door, and Zelda rolled over in bed, yawning and rubbing her eyes, and then she sighed. It had been eight years since illness had taken Arthur, her former lover, from this life, and yet somehow still turning over in the morning and finding the other half of her bed empty made her heart sink without fail.

They'd never married, in spite of how fond she was of him, and he was the father of her children, but life could be cruel, and he had contracted the wasting disease, for which there was no cure, and even magical healing could do little more than slow the process. It was a rare illness, and not contagious, but there was little more that could be done other than make the victim comfortable in their few months left.

And Mother Nature had a tendency to be an evil bitch.

Zelda missed waking up with his arms around her, she missed his warmth next to her, and she missed him. One of the few people she could stop being the queen and just relax with. And the fact that in spite of his history of being a womanizer, he had given that up, and devoted himself to her completely. So many days, after a nightmarish time in the court with the nobles, he'd patiently listen to her rant about those very nobles and their pigheaded natures, or he'd be ready to give her a massage with those talented hands he had.

But the most painful part had been watching him waste away in those final months. Losing his weight, energy, and even his mind toward the end. He was shell by the time it was over, and then death was probably a release.

She tried to put it from her mind, but after twelve years of sharing her bed with him, the emptiness of it now reminded her of him every morning. And thus far, she hadn't been able to bring herself to find someone else to fill that emptiness. And at her age now, it was unlikely she'd find a man willing to stay with her, queen or not, since she was approaching fifty, and now as she sat up, turning to sit on the side of the bed, she saw herself in the mirror on the wall. Visible crow's feet under her eyes, and her once dark brown hair now with numerous streaks of gray through it, ruining its former glory.

What she could at least say is she was still in good shape. All those years ago, when Link had taught her to use a sword properly, he'd also whipped her into shape in the process, and she wasn't going to let that fade without a fight. When she'd first started practicing in the training yard, it had drawn a lot of uncertain eyes, seeing their queen in training gear and soaked in her own sweat while she smacked a straw man with a heavy training sword, but now it was as regular as the sun coming up.

It also gave her an easy chance to walk the field and see what the current group of recruits looked like. A few years back, she'd even started a bit of a competition. It was a promise of an easy promotion in rank to any of the recruits who could take her down in a sparring match. Plenty came up thinking it would be easy to beat this old woman, only to find themselves in the dirt. So far, none had managed to beat her.

But it also helped teach them that there was more than one kind of opponent. Most raw recruits thought their raw strength would let them overpower any foe, and a woman half their size or less in some cases should be easy to do so, but just as Link taught her, she didn't fight that kind of fight, instead using her small size and superior footwork to outmaneuver the stronger opponent and use his own weight against him.

It was also one of the few forms of stress relief she still had.

She rose from the bed, walking to the mirror and pulling her negligee off over her head and tossed it aside, then looked at herself in the mirror, taking just a moment to look closely, checking for new lines or gray hairs. Then she brought her hands up to her breasts and lifted them slightly, turning to look at herself from the side in the mirror as she took her hands away, trying to see how much more she sagged had than last time she checked.

"Yes, Mother Nature is definitely a bitch," she whispered.

There was a knock at the door again. "Your majesty, are you ready to get dressed?" came the voice of her lady from outside.

"Yes, Tella, come in," Zelda said, pulling back the chair next to the mirror and picking up the hairbrush laying on the nearby bureau as she sat down.

The door's lock clicked and the young lady-in-waiting stepped inside, locking the door again behind her. She'd only been Zelda's lady for the past year, but was already quite content and efficient with her duties, and she now walked straight to the closet, which she swung open and reached inside for clothing.

"A reminder, the public forum is today, your majesty," Tella said, "If I were to assume, you'd prefer one of your court gowns for the event."

Zelda did keep a fair assortment of clothing that was more practical, with decent fits and more importantly, trousers instead of skirts, allowing her to wear her sword comfortably, but some days simply didn't call for that kind of thing.

"Yes, get me the one with the royal purple blouse," Zelda said as she worked the knots out of her hair with the brush, "Is my daughter awake yet?"

"Lady Anell was on her way to wake her when I last saw her," Tella said, "If she isn't, she will be soon."

"If she slept at all," Zelda said, "This will be the first time she's sitting on the throne and hearing the people's needs. I really should have had her doing it a lot sooner, but better late than never. I'm certain she's nervous, though."

"She'll be moreso when she sees the gown you've selected for her, I imagine," Tella said.

"Yes, I'd better get dressed before she refuses outright," Zelda said.

* * *

"My mother can't have intended me to wear this," the Princess Zelda said.

As was the tradition in Hyrule, the first-born daughter of the ruling woman carried that name passed down the generations. But the confusion caused by having the same name as her mother was dwarfed now by the gown she now saw herself wearing the mirror.

Particularly with how low the top was cut, showing off, in her mind, a rather uncomfortable amount of flesh.

"Why not just cut holes in the front for my nipples?" she moaned, "If the neck was another half-inch lower, you'd see them anyway!"

"If you're prefer, I can get the taller corset," Lady-in-Waiting Anell said, pausing in her effort to lace up the back of the dress.

"And have it sticking out the top?" Princess Zelda said, "In a way, I think that would be even worse. No, I think we should just get another dress."

"But the queen personally informed me that you should wear this one," Anell said.

"My mother can..." the princess stopped as a knock at the door interrupted her.

"It's your mother," came the voice of the queen from outside, and a moment later, the door lock clicked as she let herself in, and shut the door behind her and locking it back, returning the key to a pocket on the side of her skirt. "Oh, you look wonderful!" she said, clapping her hands together as she turned to the princess.

"If by wonderful, you mean I should be serving beer in a tavern," the princess said, looking at herself in the mirror.

Admittedly, the rest of the dress didn't look that bed. A dark blue blouse with the royal crest, the three golden triangles in the center, with the outstretched wings of an eagle on either side, stitched across the stomach in gold, and white shoulders and sleeves, and matching white skirt. In fact, it looked really good on her. But then her eyes just fell back to her own cleavage and she shook her head.

"Why, though?" she asked.

"That's the current fashion," the queen said, "Noblewomen are wearing tops like that more and more. In fact, the tailor who made that dress is a woman, and it was her idea."

"Why would I wear it when I'm taking the public forum, though?" the princess asked.

"Sex appeal, of course," the queen said.

"Mother!" the princess turned, her expression one of disbelief at what she just heard.

The queen moved over to her, standing beside her so she could see them both in the mirror next to each other.

"I didn't mean it like you might think," the queen said, "A queen is more than just a person of authority. She's a symbol. A symbol of wisdom, of compassion, of hope, and of beauty. And a wise ruler uses every asset they have. Their mind, the advice of their counsel, and yes, even their good looks. Different people will follow different things. Some will follow you because you're wise, others will follow you because of your compassion, and some will follow you simply because they worship your beauty.

"And it's up to the queen to make the best use of them all for the greater good."

"You're telling me people will follow me because I wear something this revealing?"

"I'm telling you people respect different things," the queen said, "The weak-minded and shallow will follow appearances above all. And only shallow enemies will judge you for it. Your real strength, and what the wise and brave will follow, will be your mind and decisions, because they respect you for those. Never miss an opportunity to make a would-be enemy underestimate you."

"Gods," the princess said with a sigh, "I don't see you wearing a dress like this."

The queen glanced at her own dress in the mirror, the top falling above her collarbones, much higher than her daughter's. "Well, I can't fill out a dress like that," the queen said, gesturing to her own bosom, "I think I was the skip generation for that particular trait."

"There's no reason for them to be this big," the princess said, looking down at herself, "At least they've stopped growing. When I was a teenager, it seemed like my clothes were tighter every day."

"Be happy you didn't inherit your great-great-grandmother's figure," the queen said, "According to everything I know, that poor woman was twice that size by your age. And her back got so bad, she could barely walk by the time she was forty. Apparently it was also a common worry that if she rolled over in her sleep, she'd suffocate your great-great-grandfather."

"I could really do with not hearing about my twice-great-grandmother's breasts," the princess said.

"Well, at least you're not worrying about the forum," the queen said with a smile.

"I'm worrying about it plenty," the princess said, "You just came in here and focused the conversation on my breasts somehow."

"You'll do fine, and I'll be right there beside you," the queen said, "Trust me, in an hour or two, you won't even be thinking about the dress. And if someone actually does try to use it against you, it just means they were going to be a pain in the ass anyway, but they've got nothing actually meaningful against you."

* * *

"Oh, gods, the smell."

Damien lifted one hand over his mouth and nose as the door opened, though it did nothing to help. He leaned down, stepping inside, the lantern in his other hand casting a light over the horror within.

Just like the last one a few weeks ago.

A pentagram drawn in chalk on the floor of the house, and body laying across it with limbs spread wide. All the skin had been cut away, leaving the red muscle tissue as the first thing anyone saw, and the floor stained with the blood of the process. The last time, it had been a boy in his late teens. This one was a girl, a bit younger than that, judging by the size of the body.

Nails were driven through her wrists and ankles, ensuring she could not escape. Her screams must have carried for miles, but this farmstead was too far from the nearest village for anyone to have heard her. It had also occurred long enough ago that the blood was dry, but not so long for the body to be in advanced stages of decay. Two, maybe three days then.

But the stench of rot filled the house, and the perpetrators were long gone.

The worst part was this was the fifth one in under a month, and they were no closer to finding the ones responsible.

"Captain," came a voice from the door behind him. Damien turned.

It was Lance, the young knight errant put under his command as the final stage of his training before being promoted to true knighthood. Not that Damien had any clue how to properly train a knight. He was a rookie captain, barely in his second month on the job. No doubt he was expected to rise to the occasion, but when this situation was what they were presented with, what was he supposed to do? He had expected to be spending his early days on the job on middle-of-nowhere patrols in the countryside with nothing interesting happening.

Instead he found himself part of an investigation into ritual sacrifices.

"Barn's a bloody mess, too," Lance said, "They slaughtered all the animals in there. It's like a swamp of gore. It would have taken hours at least, so they must have set fire to the wheat field just before they left."

The fire had been the only reason the nearby village had noticed something was wrong, and after they saw this themselves, sent word to the garrison in the capital.

Fifth time it had happened, second time Damien and Lance had seen it themselves. The other soldiers they'd brought were searching outside for any trace of where the perpetrators had gone while Damien had come to look inside himself.

"Let's just hope it's just the one body this time," Damien said, trying not to inhale as he walked toward the doors to the left of the main room.

Unfortunately it wasn't. Looking into the bedroom, there were three more. An adult male and female, and what looked like a male child no older than six. Their bodies were similarly desecrated to the one in the main room, then had been tossed into the bedroom to be out of the way.

So they'd saved the daughter for last, Damien thought as he turned back to the first body.

He gave the room another looking over, but other than the smashed furniture and the ritual circle, there wasn't much to be gained from the small house.

"Come on, I need air," Damien said, motioning for Lance to follow him.

The two stepped back outside, pulling the door shut behind them.

"That's five in less than a month," Damien said to himself, "Ritual sacrifices, all the skin cut from the bodies, but that skin is not found. They take it with them, they must. The pentagram means something, but what? There's no sign of magic by the site, so it's just a chalk drawing.

"Why would they go to the effort of performing a useless ritual, and then why do they take the skin? What are they gaining from this?"

"You sure they're not just bleeding psychos?" Lance asked, "Maybe they get off on it."

"The coroners will be here soon, and they can take over once we know the farm is secure," Damien said, "This is so over our heads."

"Because they're only going after remote farms, no one ever gets out to them in time to stop it either," Lance said.

"If they could have made just one mistake, some trace we can follow..."

"Captain!" came a shout from nearby, "I think I found something!"

The two turned toward the should, to see the soldier holding a prize he'd found near the edge of the burned field over his head. He came toward them, offering it to Damien, who took it in his hand, turning it over slowly.

It was a mask. Plain in its design, little more than a white piece of shaped wood, less than an inch thick. There were no markings on it, and the only open points were where it would sit over the wearer's eyes. In fact, it wasn't all that different from a male mask made for a masquerade ball, but it would cover the wearer's entire face instead of just the top half.

"Wait a minute," Lance said, "Haven't there been rumors of people in the countryside, roaming around at night, walking through villages, wearing white masks?"

"But no one's found any trace, so they were thought to be just rumors," Damien said, "until now. Even if it turns out to be nothing, we have to report it."

"I thought before that we were dealing with a couple of really sick serial killers," Lance said, "But this is looking more like a death cult."

And the two of them both knew who would be called in to deal with that kind of situation, and they weren't a rookie knight captain and the errant assigned to him.

* * *

The two in question were at present arriving at the castle, back home after their recent trip across the border, into imperial lands in their own investigation. Link and Kilishandra, with over twenty-five years in service, had not been able to give up the road and adventures as they had once tried, but they had been instrumental in training more groups to operate like themselves. But none of the new teams could really compare to them.

The two of them walked into the castle alongside the gathered crowd of citizens there for the public forum. They stood out, drawing eyes of both guards and citizens alike, due to the armor they were wearing instead of normal clothing, and weapons hanging from their belts. But while the citizens were on their way to the throne room, these two broke away from the crowd down a side passage, toward their private quarters. One of the castle maids noticed them, and reached the door to their room ahead of them, unlocking it for them, and bowing her head as they approached.

"Thank you, Greta," Kilishandra said, "If possible, could we get some hot food bought to us?"

"Of course, my lady," the maid said, "I will alert the kitchen. Is there anything else I can do for you?"

"Pass a message up the chain that we need to speak to the queen," Kilishandra said, "No rush, since I see the public forum is about to start, but when she is available."

The maid bowed her head again, and turned to leave as Kilishandra pulled the door shut behind her.

Inside, Link was already removing his armor, having tossed his cloak aside and going to the buckles on the side of his breastplate, holding the front and back half together.

The room was not exactly extravagant, but it wasn't sparse either. A large double bed sat with its head against the right wall, with a window letting in sunlight on the outer wall. There was also a dresser and standing full-length mirror, and a small dining table that would sit the two of them comfortably. It was utilitarian because it was rarely used, as Link and Kilishandra would typically spend their off-duty days in the village of Ordon, a good twelve hour ride from the capital.

"A hot meal, a bath, and a soft bed," he said, "If we didn't need to talk to Zelda, we could have just gone to Ordon."

"Not to mention a soak in that healing spring," she said, "But if we didn't come by the castle to see the kids, they'd never forgive us."

"And remind me of my age," Link said, looking at himself in the nearby mirror. His beard was a bit more grown out than usual, and his hair grown a bit wild after a few months of not tending it. And silver streaks ran through both, interrupting his once dark brown hair at regular intervals.

Kilishandra, on the other hand, had not appeared to have aged a day in the past twenty years. She did bear a few new scars, the most visible one a slash mark along the left side of her jaw, but the others were on her arms and not visible under her clothing, but they were mainly cuts, and on her right forearm was a scar from a vicious bite given by a canine, leaving a pattern in the shape of its teeth.

But to most in the castle, she looked the same as they had always known her, with her red hair, chocolate skin tone, and the eye-patch over one missing eye. She was far from immortal, but being a half-elf from another world, she was only in her second century, and it would be some time before age started to show on her.

"Speak of the devil," Link said when there was a knock at the door.

Kilishandra had barely turned to reach for the door when it burst open and the visitor rushed into the room.

It was a young woman, just sixteen years of age, though she was as tall as most men, standing just over six feet, with long red hair hanging over her shoulders, and dressed in a blue tunic with a white under-shirt and matching trousers, a more masculine garb than most women wore. One each shoulder of the tunic was the Hylian royal crest, stitched in gold.

And she threw her arms around Kilishandra, who returned the hug with a smile. "Hey, kid," Kilishandra said, "You're off-duty today?"

"Yes," the girl said, pulling back, "And when I saw you two coming in with the crowd, I just had to come see you."

Her name was Anastasia, and she was the younger child of Link and Kilishandra. She'd inherited her mother's hair color and some of her stature, and her father's blue eyes and lighter skin-tone. She was also the youngest squire in the Hylian army, on track to be a knight errant within the next few years.

Link moved over to them, and Ana released her mother so she could hug him as well. "Glad to see you're looking well," he said, "How are things here?"

"Quiet and boring, like usual," Ana said as she released him, "And I've got at least another year before I get to go out in the field and actually get some excitement."

"Trust me, you'll miss the quiet once you're out there," Link said.

"Says the guy always out saving the world," Ana said with a smile, "So what was it this time? Zombie army? Flesh eating plague? Or the traditional ego-maniacal wizard?"

"None of the above," Kilishandra said, "It was a lot of walking on empty roads and sleeping in the dirt."

"So where's your brother?" Link asked, sitting down and moving to remove his boots.

"He's on duty," Ana said, "He and Damien were going out on patrol on the west side today. And from talk around the barracks, there was another murder at a farmstead out there, so they'll probably be out a while yet to give it a look."

"I see," Kilishandra said, "Hopefully we'll get a chance to see them before we have to go again."

"You going to go to the forum?" Ana asked.

"I think I'll pass," Link said, sitting down on the side of the bed and going to remove his boots, "Don't think I could sit through a few hours of people accusing each other of petty crap."

"Yeah, I guess stolen bread and drunken fistfights are a bit beneath you," Ana said.

"I'm sure it's important to them," Kilishandra said, "We just have other things that are important to us."

"Well, are you at least going to be here for the Summer Festival in three weeks?" Ana said.

"We'll see," Link said, "I have my doubts."

"Do you have plans for it?" Kilishandra asked.

"Of course!" Ana said with a beaming smile, "I'm finally old enough to enter the Sword! And I intend to win!"

Link chuckled. "Better keep it under control," he said, "Most of the things your mother and I taught you will get you disqualified from that faster than you could spit."

"I know about the rules," Ana said, "Most of the instructors I've been under the past couple years also hate what you taught me. They call it dishonorable and just plain dirty."

"It'll be useful when you need it," Link said.

There was a tentative knock at the door, and Ana turned as Kilishandra opened it. The chambermaid had returned, pushing a cart before her with plates of food fresh from the castle kitchen.

"The meal you requested," she said, "I hope you don't mind leftovers from breakfast."

"No, that is fantastic," Kilishandra said, "Eggs and bacon sound perfect right now."

"I'll get out of your way," Ana said, "I'm going to go watch the forum. Today's the first time the queen is going to give the princess full control of it. Might be entertaining, at least."

"Your father and I are going to get some rest, but we'll see you later," Kilishandra said as Ana walked out the door. Ana just lifted a hand to wave as she left.

"Princess having her first open forum without her mother," Link said, "Gods, they're all growing up, aren't they?"

"That is what children do," Kilishandra said, shutting the door and putting the plates down on the table.

"Maybe we should try to be here for the festival, to at least watch her fight," Link said.

"I would like to," Kilishandra said, then gave a small laugh, "You remember when we fought each other in a sword competition?"

"I remember we were both disqualified," Link said.

"And I remember back then, we couldn't stand each other," Kilishandra said, sitting down next to him on the bed, "and look where we are now."

"Well, I know you couldn't stand me," Link said, "But to tell the truth, you were forcing that hostility so hard, it was actually kind of cute."

"Maybe it was because Zelda built you up so much before I met you, I didn't see what she did at first," Kilishandra said, "But I did after a while. I still do."

"Right now, you should see a tired old man who wants to eat," Link said.

"That too," Kilishandra replied.

* * *

The queue outside the throne room was quite long when Ana arrived. She slipped by the line and through the main door, moving to the left side of the room. The public forum always drew a large crowd, in spite of only being open for four hours. It was impossible to allow all who came to speak, but that wasn't the point.

The princess was seated on the throne, at present listening to the speaker on the floor, a woman named Telma who owned the tavern on the main square. Telma was not an unknown in the court. She'd been part of the resistance during the Twilight Invasion twenty-seven years ago, allowing them to operate out of her tavern, hidden from the monsters that had overtaken the land. In the time that followed, she'd had a surge of business, and with her newfound wealth, bought out her competition, moving her business from the side street it had been on to the main city square.

Now approaching seventy years old, some wondered when she'd retire and pass the business one of her children, to which she always responded she'd retire when she was dead.

Ana didn't need to hear the specifics to get the bulk of what she was hear for. There'd been a fight in the tavern last night between a couple of drunks, and Telma had come to the forum ready with names to demand recompense for the destroyed furniture from the perpetrators. They brawlers couldn't hide, either, as they had been taken by the city guard the previous night and locked in cells until they dried out.

Exactly as Ana predicted, the princess asked if an estimate had been made for the damages, and Telma had a list ready, made and signed by an authorized party, and the princess cast her ruling that the perpetrators would each be responsible for half the damages. The crown would pay Telma immediately and absorb the bill, which would then be paid back in full within three months or the perpetrators would face arrest and have to work off the remaining bill through community service.

The royal notary wrote a claim for Telma, and the princess stamped it with the royal seal on her ring, which she would take to the royal bank to receive her payment.

That one was easy enough, Ana thought, so why did the princess look like she was going to leave inch-deep grip marks in the throne's armrests?

"She really is nervous," Ana said to no one in particular.

Maybe it was running the forum by herself, even though the queen was there, sitting in a seat near the wall on the far right side from the throne. Or maybe it was the crowd. The throne room was quite large, but there were over two hundred people in here right now, making it feel quite a bit smaller.

Or maybe it was that dress. Maybe she regretted wearing something that low-cut in front of all these people.

"Looks damn good, though," she whispered, "I wish I had a set like that..."

"A set like what?" came a voice from near her shoulder.

Ana turned, surprised he had snack up on her. "Prince Lucian!" she said, and quickly bowed her head, "I'm sorry, I didn't realize you were there."

"Well, I didn't exactly announce myself."

Prince Lucian, the other half of the royal twins, had come up behind her in the crowd. With his blonde hair and white outfit, he stood out enough, it just showed how she wasn't paying attention.

"You didn't answer my question, though," he said, "You wish you had a set like what?"

"Nothing," Ana said, turning her face away from him as she felt it grow hot.

Lucian chuckled, stepping up beside her. "Though you can tell, she's not comfortable up there," he said.

"Yeah, but I'm sure that will come with time," Ana said, "It'll have to if she's going to be the next queen."

"And all the nobles here are watching, looking for any weakness they can exploit to increase their own standing," Lucian said.

"Politicians are the real cutthroats, then?" Ana asked.

"Oh, you know it," Lucian said, "There's even a few that would tear down the monarchy if it would benefit them. That's the real point of the public forum, to make sure the general public remain on the queen's side, convince them that she's listening to them."

"You're saying she's not?"

"No, but I am saying there's just so many voices, one person can't hear them all," Lucian said.

"I can't argue with that," Ana said, "You know, I thought this was going to be more entertaining than it is."

"Public forum tends to be pretty dull," Lucian said, "I've sat there and made enough hearings to know that."

"What a minute, who's that?" Ana said, noticing the next person stepping forward.

It was no resident of Hyrule. A bird-like man, with blue feathers covering his body, and a large yellow beak on his face. But he was wearing a red vest with golden stitching, and gold pads on the shoulders. On the left side of his chest, over his heart was a crest, in the shape of a roaring golden dragon.

"That's the crest of the Riastad Empire," Lucian said.

"The empire?" Ana repeated. She'd never seen a citizen of the empire come this far west. The mountains on Hyrule's east side were nearly impassible if one didn't know the routes. Though if the bird-man could fly like one, that wouldn't be a problem for him.

"Your majesty," he said, falling to one knee and bowing his head, and also crossing one wing across his chest, "I am a messenger from His Exalted Majesty, Emperor Maximilian of the Riastad Empire, come with a letter for the queen of Hyrule."

There was murmuring in the crowd, unsure what to make of this. The princess had frozen, her eyes wide, completely caught off-guard by this, but the queen was already moving. On her feet, she walked swiftly to the side of the throne.

"Forgive me, but you seem to have mistaken the situation," the queen said, "I am Queen Zelda Daphnes Hyrule. The woman you are addressing is my daughter."

"My deepest apologies, I meant no offense," the messenger said, "This is my first time in your lands."

"For future knowledge, messengers should announce themselves at the gates of the city," the queen said, "You've interrupted the public forum, which is intended for the citizens of my kingdom, not for receiving dignitaries. If you'd accompany the guards beside you, they'll escort you to my study where I may take your letter."

The messenger looked up, and saw that two Hylian guards had come up behind him. "Of course, your majesty," he said, standing up, and turning to follow them, and they led him out of the throne room.

"My deepest apologies to those who have not had their cases heard," the queen said, "but I'm afraid we must cut the forum short today. Matters of state. We will resume tomorrow at mid-morning."

There was grumbling, but the crowd began to move toward the door, the guards moving at the edges to keep them moving.

"What's going on, mother?" the princess asked.

"Seems the emperor has a message for me," the queen said, "I'll have to read it to know what. Don't worry, you were doing fine, this was very unexpected."

"Should I come with you?" the princess asked.

"No, I'll handle it," the queen said, "The empire… I think this is still over your head, no offense. You go relax."

"If you say so."

"Anastasia!" the queen shouted across the throne, causing Ana to turn toward her. The queen beckoned with one hand, and the guards let her through, and she approached the queen at a jog.

Ana fell to a knee and bowed her head when she came close to the queen and princess. "How may I be of service, your majesty?" she asked.

"I received word earlier that your parents are here," the queen said, "Can you go get them and bring them to my study as well?"

"At once!" Ana said, and rose to her feed. The queen nodded, indicating dismissal, and Ana turned, running for the throne room entrance at a jog.

The queen sighed, already imagining all kinds of horrible things in that letter, and wondering what Link and Kilishandra had to say as well.

This day was becoming far more interesting than she had expected it to be.

* * *

The queen's study could be seen more as an office. It was relatively small room, with a large wooden desk and her seat behind it, and four other seats in front for guests. At the back of the room was a large bookshelf, filled with tomes of law and records, all for quick reference should the queen need them, though she did not for the task at hand.

The letter from the emperor was sealed with wax, and the imprint of the imperial crest, a roaring dragon, pressed upon it. She broke the wax and unrolled the sheet. Good gods, did the emperor pen this himself? If so, his handwriting was atrocious.

It wasn't illegible, though, and Zelda's eyes went wide as she read it, almost not able to believe it was real.

There was a knock at the door, causing the messenger and the guard in the study to run.

"If that's Link and Kilishandra, let them in," Zelda said without looking up from the letter.

The guard moved to the door, his steps silent on the wood floor. He was one of the dark elf ninja, the personal bodyguards of the royal family, who came to Hyrule from Mystara twenty-five years ago. Dressed in black leather armor, with a curved katana hanging from his hip, and visible belts of throwing knives strapped across his chest, and a black cloth around his neck that could become both a hood and a mask if he needed to conceal his face and snow-white hair to move in shadow.

The Hylian royal family had once been guarded by another people of the shadows, called the Sheikah, but they had vanished centuries ago, so Zelda had welcomed a return, even if by a different people. It was only a matter of time before the dark elves were gone as well, however, as other than Kilishandra and Silviana, who lived in Ordon with her husband, there were no females left among them. While most of the men had taken Hylian wives in the decades following those events, and it would take centuries, it was only a matter of time before those of dark elf bloodlines were indiscernible from normal Hylians.

But for now, dressed in black and heavily armed, they made for an intimidating presence. This one now opened the door, and he saw the three waiting outside.

"Link and Kilishandra may enter," he said, "The other will wait out here."

Ana shrugged as her parents went inside. Nothing new there. The door was pulled shut behind them.

"What's the letter?" Link asked, approaching the desk and sitting down in one of the free seats without waiting for permission.

"From the emperor of Riastad," Zelda said, laying it down on the desk, "He wants to talk to me. In person."

"Is he serious?" Kilishandra asked, "The empire's been in a civil war for almost a decade. Why would he all of a sudden reach all the way out here?"

"According to this, he put down the last of the traitors about a week ago," she turned to the messenger, "That's a very fast trip for such a distance."

"I am a Rito, your majesty," the messenger said, bowing his head, "We are not bound by the roads of you land-walkers. No offense intended."

"He also says he has far greater enemies than Hyrule to worry about, though I wasn't aware we were enemies," Zelda said, "But he wants to meet in person to discuss matters and hopefully come to a non-aggression pact before he can his attention away from Hyrule. And just to show he's not bitter about things, he suggests Baron Ravenholt's lands as the neutral meeting point."

"Ravenholt, he's the one with lands east of the mountains, right?" Link said, "That the Gorons have started trading their mining explosives to."

"That's right, but more than that, he used to be part of the empire, before it fractured," Zelda said, "Rather than get caught up in the civil war, he petitioned me for vassalage. I granted it, and there is now a small company of Hylian soldiers there, reinforcing him. I also had the Gorons send some engineers to install their latest model of canons on his walls to further strengthen his defenses.

"If he ever does come under siege, he'll likely need them, as it could take ten days or more to get a company of armed troops through those mountain passes to reinforce him."

"I assume guaranteed peace would be good for Hyrule, in any case," Kilishandra said.

"Yes, it would," Zelda said, "Fact is the empire, reunited, dwarfs us in size by a fair margin, if they were to declare war and invade us, mountains or no, we'd be fighting outnumbered fifteen to one at least. Based on what we know, however, they don't have the spellcasters we do," she glanced at Kilishandra, "nor do they have Goron explosive and canon technology. We might not be able to win," and she turned directly the messenger as she continued, "but it would be very costly for them to conquer us. So costly that their greater enemy would likely be able to seize the opportunity for their own invasion."

"The emperor also wished me to tell you personally that our two nations may have a common enemy," the messenger said, and reached to the bag hanging at his hip.

He withdrew something wrapped in cloth, and gently set it on the desk in front of Zelda.

She reached across and opened the cloth, not picking it up, revealing what lay within.

It was a mask, white in color other than a bloodstain. It was plain in design, the only visible characteristics the two holes for the wearer's eyes.

"We know nothing about this enemy other than the remains of their victims," the messenger said, "Victims of ritual sacrifice."

"Holy shit," Link said.

Zelda, a growing suspicion in her eyes, looked over at him. "Link, what was it you wanted to talk to me about?"

Link had been holding a wrapped package under one arm since entering, now tossed it onto the desk, the wrapping coming open as landed next to the mask. It was an identical white mask, missing only the bloodstain.

There was a knock at the door, as if on cue. "Your majesty, it's an emergency!"

"Let them in," Zelda said to the guard, who opened the door.

It was Damien, the young Gerudo knight captain, accompanied by one of the ranking officers.

"Your majesty, you wished to be informed the moment there was… oh..." the officer paused when he saw how many people were in the room.

"It's fine, what's happened?" Zelda said.

"Your majesty, I went to investigate a farmstead where there had been a murder in the recent days," Damien said, stepping forward, and then he paused, looking at the masks laying on the desk, as he held up the one his man had found in his hand. "We found this at the site."

"It seems my lord was correct," the messenger said.

Zelda took a deep breath, slowly exhaling through her nose, her eyes closed. This had just changed everything.

"Tell your emperor I will meet with him," she said, "It must be soon, is within a month possible?"

"I'm sure it will be," the messenger said, "We Rito can fly fast enough, either I or another will return with his reply for time. It was an honor to meet you, your majesty. I hope for a great era of cooperation between our nations."

"The guard in the hall will escort you out," Zelda said, and the messenger bowed again, departing through the door, which was pulled shut behind him.

Zelda looked down at the three masks now laying on her desk.

"Gentlemen, and lady," she said, looking up at those before her, "We have a death cult on our hands. One that is far more widespread than I am comfortable with."


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2: Snakes in the Garden**

A small farmstead near the forest, with the river on one side from which vegetable gardens were irrigated, and a small four room house for the family that lived there. The gardens were large enough to feed the family of two, as well as have some to sell at market in the city each season. On the other side was the fenced area in front of the feed barn where three milk-cows were kept, and they were skittish, bawling loudly at the lone figure walking toward the farm.

There was something wrong, the lone man thought, looking at the ground. It was covered in footprints. At least a dozen men had been here earlier, and horses as well. There was no sign of a struggle, but if so many had come here, what had it been for.

He stopping, looking toward the barn, and saw the shadow there. A young man, about seventeen or so, hung from the rafters, a noose around his neck. And he knew the young man who hung there, as well as why he would have been here at the farm. Michael had been his name. But if he were hung like that…

The man quickened his pace, moving toward the house. The door wasn't locked, and he pushed it open, his hand falling toward his sword. The inside was a wreck. Here a clear fight had occurred. The dining table was smashed in half and dishes were scattered across the floor. No signs of fire or blade marks, however. The fight had been barehanded.

The only person here was Maria, the widow who lived alone with her daughter, Leselle. Young Michael, the one hanging in the barn, had been sweet on Leselle, and the girl was pregnant from that relationship, but there was no sign of Leselle now. Maria was lying on the floor, not moving, but there was no blood or visible injury on her.

"Maria," the man said, moving closer to her and putting one hand on her shoulder, "Can you hear me?"

She stirred, looking up at him, the streaks of dried tears across her face, and a dark eye from a blow to her face.

"They took her," she whispered.

"Leselle? Who took her?" the man asked.

"A group, all in white masks," she said, "I don't know who they were."

"And Michael? Did they do that to him?" the man asked.

"He chased after them," Maria said, "What did they do?"

"He's dead," the man said.

"Oh, gods..." Maria hung her head, "Why did they take her?"

"Why indeed..." the man said, rising back to his feet and looking around the room. He idly let one hand fall to the hilt of his sword, his thumb running across the blue pommel gem set above the black blade. "How long ago?"

"I don't know," Maria said, sitting up to her knees, "I think I blacked out. A few hours at least."

"Here, you'll need this," the man said, dropping a jingling coin purse on the floor in front of her, "Hire guards to stay here while I'm gone. I don't know how long this will be."

"Can you find them?" Maria asked.

"If I have to chase them to the end of the earth itself," he said, moving toward the door.

"Zero," Maria said, rising to her feet, causing him to stop and turn toward her.

There she could see it under his hood. The massive red eye on the left side of his face, nearly twice the size of his other eye, and surrounded by a scar of permanently blackened skin, a mark forever burned into him by the wielder of the Triforce of Wisdom decades ago.

"I don't care what you have to do, or how many of them you have to kill," Maria said, "Just bring my daughter back to me."

"If I have to kill every last one of them, I will," he said, and turned away, stepping out the door.

Maria sank to her knees again, sighing heavily and fighting against the urge to cry again. But she knew whomever found Zero on their trail would very quickly regret their actions. She'd first met Zero about seventeen years ago, before Leselle was born. He'd come into her life unexpectedly, and in fact saved her from a group of bandits that were intent on taking everything she had and burning the small farm to the ground. And Zero had killed them all to save her. And for some reason, he'd stayed.

He never told her why he'd stayed, or why he helped her in the first place, and yet, there was something in those mismatched eyes of his when she looked into them. She saw a monster that was trying to be a human being.

But these kidnappers would not see that. All they'd see is that monster coming for them.

* * *

Earlier on the day of the forum, at about dawn, a group of cloaked figures gathered in a low field to the west of the capital.

Hyrule's capital was an impressive sight from this distance, he had to admit. The castle towers rose high over the city's walls, silhouetted against the rising sun as it peaked over the summits of the mountains beyond.

A great day it would be when he stood atop those walls himself.

"Master."

He turned, knowing which one it was, even as she wore the hood and white mask over her face, her gray cloak the same as all the others gathered behind her.

"Preparations are nearly complete," the woman said, "With your permission, it is time for us to go to the castle."

"Yes," he said, his voice dry and graveled, like a man who had been far too long without water, "Do not strike until you certain of success. It has taken months to prepare this, and we will not have another chance."

With a bow, the woman and six of the others then turned and walked away toward their horses nearby.

The first figure turned back to toward the city. The weakness of his own voice reminded him that his time was limited, and he had more important matters to be concerned with than fantasies of when he would rule this land. With a shriveled hand, fingers more like dried twigs than flesh, he reached inside his cloak, and withdrew a green gemstone, about the size of a human fist.

With surprising strength for his shriveled appearance, he gripped the gem, and it crushed in his grasp. Light erupted form within his fingers, green motes of light exploding into the air, and then his flesh shifted, color returning to it and growing outward, and after a few seconds his hand appeared healthy, albeit with blue skin.

He cleared his throat, feeling as if all the grime that that had given him gravel in his voice was gone.

"I'm running out," he said, his voice much stronger, but reminding himself once again of his limited time remaining. He only had so many of the gemstones remaining, and no more could be found in this world.

Cursing his own mortality, he turned from the city, toward the circle in the clearing, where the members of the White Mask had arranged a circle of stones on his order and drawn a large magic circle in white sand.

He needed to be ready when their guests arrived.

* * *

"Who else was with you when you found this?" Zelda asking, looking up from the three masks on her desk toward Damien.

"Lance, and a few men from the city guard," he said.

"Is Lance here?" Zelda asked.

"He should be out in the hall."

Zelda motioned with one hand, and the black-clad ninja moved to the door, leaning out and saying a few words, and a moment later, Lance entered the room, the ninja shutting the door behind him. The small room was starting to get quite crowded, but Lance approached the desk, bowing his head to the queen where she was seated.

"Your majesty," he said in greeting, then looked up to Link and Kilishandra, "Father, Mother."

Kilishandra nodded, giving him a small smile, but was not going to interrupt.

So many times, Zelda almost had to look twice to actually see the difference. Lance looked so much like his father had thirty years ago, when Zelda and Link had first met during the Twilight Invasion.

Like his younger sister, Lance had inherited a fairer skin tone than Kilishandra's, and also had his father's piercing blue eyes. But unlike his sister, his hair was dark brown, like Link's had been when he was younger, instead of the red Ana had inherited from their mother.

Though the one most likely to draw eyes of strangers was Damien. The young knight was of Gerudo descent, with dark brown skin and bright red hair. He also stood nearly eight feet tall, towering over everyone else in the room.

His very existence could be said to be in defiance of the odds. Only a single Gerudo male was born each generation, making him unique even if he were among others of his kind. Their species was unique in a way, as whatever race a Gerudo had a child with, the child would always be pure-blood Gerudo. But the real defiance of odds was in who his parents were. Those gathered here knew him, but most did not, and would scoff at the very idea such a parentage was possible.

His mother was Sheila Anthress, an elf woman from a land far to the west, across the ocean, who came to Hyrule with the other survivors of a conflict that left the entire continent a barren waste, and here in Hyrule, she had found her true place. Upon the death of the previous holder of the position, she was chosen by powers greater than men to become the new Sage of Light, and watch over the world with the other Sages.

At the time she took the oath and became the sage, she had already been pregnant after a night she spent with Ganondorf Dragmire, the wizard villain who had long plagued Hyrule, and turned to aid the nation in the fight against the very same darkness that had reduced Sheila's homeland to a lifeless husk.

So it could be said that Damien was the son of both the Sage of Light and the King of Darkness, an unlikely combination at the very least.

As the Sage of Light, Sheila's responsibilities prevented her from being a proper mother to the boy, and even if Ganondorf could be trusted to be a father, he was dead, in perhaps the final twist of his story, giving his life to save the very world he had once tried to conquer.

As a result, Damien grew up in the castle. Far from a hard life, he was even playmates with the royal twins when they were younger. But he was one that the choice to serve in the military had surprised Zelda, as he'd shown little interest in the subject when younger. But he'd excelled at the physical training and the education, and was one of the youngest among the royal knights now.

But here he had stalled, for some reason. He showed little interest in rising higher in rank, and had a somewhat disconcerting habit of following orders to the letter.

While someone so loyal could be seen as a boon, Zelda had little use for knights that could not think for themselves in the heat of the moment. Times would come when the amount of time it would take to relay orders would be too long. Knights were intended to be the field commanders in times of war and they had to be able to make decisions on their own.

But whether it was caused by uncertainty or just a lack of ambition, she wasn't sure yet. The former could be trained out, while the latter would cripple his entire career.

That was why she'd paired him with Lance. The son of Link and Kilishandra, it wasn't just for looks that the boy reminded her of his father. While Lance did show proper respect to her as the queen, he had at least a bit of his father's disregard for authority.

Link had never once bowed to her, the queen, in the entire time she'd known him. So many saw this as a sign of disrespect, but she knew it was anything but. Link looked her in the eye when they spoke, something so few others would dare to do. Regardless of what task she gave him, he was someone she could trust to get the job done, no matter what it took or how long.

The fact he'd saved her nation more than once now, not to mention the world, she wouldn't care if he put his feet on her desk right now. He was someone she knew she could trust implicitly, even with secrets that could potentially start a war if they became public.

She did muse on the idea of telling him to prevent a war by tearing down the empire. A seemingly insurmountable task for one person, but she was certain he'd find a way.

But she feared becoming too reliant on him. Ultimately, he was just one man, and for all his accomplishments and becoming a legend in his own lifetime, he was still human and just as vulnerable as anyone to one unlucky slip that could cost his life.

And then there was Kilishandra. Link's wife, standing next to him, was the adopted daughter of Ganondorf. While not related by blood, she'd been raised by the wizard, though she had not inherited his ruthlessness. In fact, Zelda would say she had a surprisingly gentle nature, given the circumstances. Ganondorf had taught her to wield magic comparable to his own, and it was possible that she was even more powerful than he had been. Now that he was dead, she was very likely the most powerful spellcaster alive.

Another odd set of circumstances that she and Link were married, since Zelda remembered when the two had first met, they seemed like they couldn't stand each other. But maybe opposites really did attract. And having her with Link made Zelda feel better about the kind of work they did. While Kilishandra might have a gentle nature at heart, she really did love him with all her being. Her magic was powerful enough to level entire cities in moments. Anyone who tried to harm Link would have to deal with her as well. She was no goddess, but to the average thug or soldier, she might as well be.

But Link still had something Kilishandra didn't. Something that few others Zelda had met had. Something that wasn't immediately obvious until you'd known him and been around him for some time. Something that you had to see him in action to really understand. But once you knew what to look for, you could see it in his eyes. Lying in wait, deep inside, like a wild animal waiting to be turned loose.

He had a true killer instinct. Even after all these years, it was a sharp as ever. While others panicked under pressure, Link thrived there. He was the idea Zelda wanted from her knights, though none would likely ever compare.

Until now. When she looked Lance in the eye, she could see it there. He had the same killer instinct as his father. It was subdued, though, as if it were locked away. He'd never had to tap into it before, and in an ideal world, would never have to. But the world would not be ideal. This cult, and now the empire looking their direction would make sure it wasn't.

Just a generation or two of peace, would that be too much to ask for? Apparently so.

It made her feel terrible to look at this situation as an opportunity, both to break Damien out of his stall, and force Lance to learn how to tap into that instinct, but the more she thought about it, the more she realized she had to do so. In a way, it did mean possibly ruining their lives in the process, but as the queen, she had to think beyond the two of them.

That was the worst part of being a ruler. There were simply times she could not afford to look at her soldiers as people, but as resources and how best to apply them. If she could force them to grow beyond their current state, they would be more useful in the future.

Lance wasn't adding much to the current situation, as it was. She asked him what he had found at the farm, and all he had was a description of the barn, and the fact all the livestock had been slaughtered before the field was burned, and then the sacrificial murders in the house, which Damien confirmed.

But the two of them had seen more of these slaughters than any other single soldiers, and that alone did give them a bit of protection against future ones, that being the knowledge of what they would find. Someone who hadn't seen one was likely to lose their lunch at the sight, and if they were going into the heart of these cultists' stronghold, it would likely be far worse.

But it wasn't as though she intended to send them alone, either.

Link and Kilishandra operated independently from the main military forces. In fact, if her generals knew how much power they actually had, protests would surely occur. As such, their rank was unique as well. She called them Eyes of the Queen, as their job was to effectively be her eyes where she could not be. It was not spying, but they went into foreign nations frequently in their tasks, bearing no symbols of Hyrule to identify them, and with full knowledge that if they were found out, she would have to deny knowledge to prevent a war.

But their task was simple in a way: To seek out threats to the nation, or even to the world, and end them before they could grow into real problems. Usually what they did amounted to monster hunting, and the things they fought were never going to be capable of being a real threat, but sometimes their reports did come back with something she was glad they found first.

But they were still just two people, and while more units had been created for similar tasks, none had been given the freedom of these two. When the report was they had slain a Lynel that had come close to Kakariko, it was hardly earth-shaking, but it was still good that such a beast was prevented to reaching the town.

But then there were reports that were unsettling, such as the one where they had found an entire village under the control of a phantom warlock, who had been burned at the stake centuries ago, only to return as a Revenant and control the minds of the villagers, and the monster's influence slowly spreading across the local countryside. When the Revenant was slain, the villagers were freed of its control, but Link and Kilishandra weren't certain it would stay dead for good and had recommended the church send missionaries to bless the land and scatter holy water at the site the warlock had been burned. If it still came back, they'd need a wizard skilled in magical exorcisms to be rid of the creature for certain.

There was no magic that could truly bring back the dead. That was one of the first rules taught to would-be magicians by their teachers. No matter how skilled a magical healer was, they simply could not return life to a body which the soul had already fled. But angry, violent souls had a habit of lingering after their death.

So while Link and Kilishandra were used to working with just the two of them to deal with these kinds of matters, Zelda had it in her mind to expand their little squad.

As expected, Lance's retelling of the events revealed nothing new. As he finished, Zelda tapped her finger on her desk as she thought. The murders had been happening for months, but were spaced out. These weren't psychopaths looking for any kill they could get. Each was precise and efficient, and barring this most recent attack, left no real traces of the perpetrators.

"Question now is where do we start with this," Zelda said, "I'd rather not just wait for the next attack to hope it will give us better leads, but I also don't think combing the countryside will be worth the effort."

"If I may, your majesty," Damien said, waiting for her permission before going on, "We have enough men to do just that. Send the army and with enough squads, we could cover every inch of Hyrule in a matter of days."

"We don't know the exact number we're dealing with," Zelda said, "An army can't track a small group. They would vanish into the crowds of the city and villages and we'd never find them. We need to move subtly, but I do think a bit larger group would be a good idea."

"Kilishandra and I can move much faster with just the two of us than if we have to haul a lot of people with us," Link said, "All we need to find is a link to where the group has gone."

"I'm only thinking four more to go with you," Zelda said, "We'll start with these two here."

Link looked over at Lance and Damien, then back to Zelda. "Are you serious? They're way too young."

"They're about the same age you were when we first met," Zelda said, "And I remember you storming into the castle almost single-handed against a veritable army."

"That was different," Link said.

"You mean because it was you," Kilishandra said, "Lance, what do you think?"

Lance seemed just as surprised by the suggestion as being asked. "Oh, um, I don't know," he said, "I mean..."

What did he mean? He wasn't sure himself. He expected to be on crap patrols for at least a year or more before he got a chance at something real. And what was the queen thinking here? It could be she was giving him just enough rope to hang himself with if he screwed up.

"I think she means, can you take orders from your own parents?" Damien said.

"Look who's talking, little brother," Kilishandra said, but smiled at him.

"If it means I get a chance at these monsters, I'd salute a side of bacon," Damien said.

"Yeah," Lance said with a nod, "Same here. When do we leave?"

"I'll take that," Zelda said, looking back to Link, "Anything else you'd like to say."

Link shook his head, but then turned to Lance. "You better hold to that," he said, "When I or your mother tell you to do something, you don't ask why, you do it. Are we clear?"

"You are the superior officer," Lance said.

"I'm saying this as your father," Link said, "And I've been doing this for a long time."

"All right, then," Zelda said, "Just the matter of the other two."

"Other two?" Link asked, turning back to her.

"I'm going to give you a couple of scouts who, while also young, have rather strong service records for their age," Zelda said, and looked up at the ninja standing in the corner, "I need to send a message for Vargus. Send me Lilith and Natalya."

The ninja nodded and snapped his fingers. A second ninja stepped into the room and with a bow, turned and walked for the door.

It was a rule of thumb about the dark elves that made up the royal bodyguard. For each one you could see, there were ten that you couldn't. In fact, Link found himself looking around the room wondering where the hell that one had even been hiding. There was only one possible place, a corner near the door where the light of the brazier next to Zelda's desk didn't quite reach.

Though as skilled as the ninja were at staying out of sight, they still paled in comparison to one other he knew. A ranger named Silviana, who had taken the position of guardsman of the village of Ordon years ago. Link was convinced if she didn't want to be seen, she could be standing on your foot and you still wouldn't be able to find her. And as for Lilith and Natalya, those were the names of her twin daughters. While not the first women to be recruited by the formerly all-male force of the ninja, he expected their mother's teachings likely put them at the top of their training group.

* * *

In the castle courtyard, there was a small altar that had been constructed about ten years ago. It was one of the few areas freely open to the public, for any who were willing to test their hands on the sword that slept there. The tip of its blade embedded in a raised pedestal of stone, the Master Sword waited for its next wielder to grip the hilt and draw it from its stone prison.

In the past two decades, it had been wielded by both Link and Kilishandra, but the altar had been built only when Kilishandra felt it was time to put it to rest once again. While the stories of her time with the blade did not carry the same weight as Link's legendary feats with the weapon, once it was placed here, it refused to budge.

In the first few months once it was placed in the altar, men and women had come from all across the kingdom to attempt to draw it once more. Every knight and soldier in the Hylian army had attempted to draw the blade, but none were able to so much as shift it.

It was a blade that chose its wielder as much as the wielder chose it. While it had past hands numerous times in the past, it merely tolerated those that were not its wielder, but worthy enough to hold it. Once at rest, it would not shift for those lacking the strength to wield it.

And there it stayed, its silver blade gleaming in the sun beneath the blue guard and hilt. When the blade was awake, a yellow gem was visible in the guard, yet as it slept the gem had vanished, like an eye that had shut.

But after those first few months, when none were able to draw the blade from the stone, public interest died away, and the courtyard was empty most days except for the castle gardeners tending to the plants and bushes, and keeping ivy from growing over the altar.

"Only one with the strength to wield it can draw this blade," Anastasia whispered to herself as she approached it. She'd read that, she'd done the research, and how many times she'd come here to test it.

It had been about four months since her last attempt. And she'd gone all in on the training in that time. She undid the buttons of her jacket, slipping it off and dropping it on the stone beneath her. She was wearing a white, sleeveless vest underneath, and her physique was clear to any watching now.

She was still not the size of a man, but her arms practically bulged with the muscle she had spent years building, and if not for the vest, one would also see the rock-hard abdomen. She had to be strong enough now and this would be how she proved it.

She stepped up to the sword, as she had many times before, and gripped the hilt with both hands. She took a deep breath and pulled. The blade did not come free, and did not even shift. Gritting her teeth, Ana set her feet and pulled harder. She grunted and strained, but still the blade refused to move.

Then with a gasp for breath, she released her grip and stepped away.

"Damn it!" she cursed, and kicked the flat of the blade. If not for her good, strong boot, it would likely have broken a toe with that amount of force. But the blade did not even shake, standing resolute against her.

She'd heard all the stories, of course. She'd been raised on them. Her brother, Lance, was the same age their father had been when he first pulled the sword from the original altar in the Lost Woods. Yes, she was about five years younger. But ever since she said she wanted to be a knight, it felt too easy. Her instructors always took it easy on her. Whether because she was female or because of who her parents were, she didn't know. Fellow trainees her own age, men even, didn't want to fight her even in sparring. And when they did, they held back, as if they were afraid to hurt her.

She knew the stories of her father's exploits by heart, and was determined from a young age that she wouldn't disappoint him. She'd live up to his name. But she couldn't do that if people weren't going to push her, she knew that. And the tournament at the Summer Festival was the only place she could get that. But that was because she was fighting experienced men who weren't going to let themselves lose to a girl her age. She intended to win this year, but it wasn't a real fight. The question was how she would fare in true life or death situations.

"When it's a question of them or you, you don't think about old relationships, friendships that once were, or even whether it's truly right or wrong," Link had told her countless times, "When it's them or you, you make damn sure it's them."

But that was also why she kept coming back here, trying to pull the sword from its stone bed. It was one obstacle that no one made easy for her. It would stand resolute until she had the strength to draw it free.

But it wasn't just the past four months. She'd been building herself up for years, but no matter how much muscle she put on, the sword wouldn't budge.

"Only one with the strength to wield it can draw this blade," she repeated to herself. She'd seen the ceremony where her month had placed the weapon here. The stone block it rested in was only about four inches wide and a foot long, but was carved directly from the stone dais beneath it. When the blade had been placed here, the block had been solid, yet the tip of the blade had slid into the stone as easily as a hot knife into butter.

"Physical strength cannot draw it out, you know," came a voice from her side.

Ana turned, and there he was again.

"Prince Lucien," she said, noting the black clad bodyguard standing some ten feet back behind him, "If I didn't know better, I'd think you were stalking me."

"No, not this time, at least. Just getting some fresh air and I happened to see the vein about to pop out of your forehead," the prince replied, "Not exactly exactly a ladylike image."

"No one would ever mistake me for a lady," Ana said.

"But in any case, the legend does say the sword can only be drawn by one strong enough to wield it during times of great calamity," Lucien said, moving toward her, "This is hardly a time of calamity, after all. There hasn't even been a war since before we were born. And as for the strength..."

Ana eyed the prince. He was not exactly soft for one of such a life of luxury. He had received training with a blade, and was relatively fit, but certainly didn't compare to the career soldiers. In fact, looking at him now, dressed in his silver-white tunic and trousers, one would hardly think him a fighter at all. He wasn't carrying a blade on him, and his easy smile was one that could be taken as either complete ease, or complete disregard. He looked like he didn't have a care in the world.

Maybe he didn't, being the son of the queen and all, and the fact the Hyrule's succession was to the first-born daughter.

"And what about strength?" Ana asked as he came closer to stop a few paces away.

He looked down at the sword, then back at her, and with one finger, tapped his own chest over his heart. "It's strength of heart," he said, "That's what the stories always said. The sword was drawn by a true courageous knight who was strong at heart."

"And what does that actually mean?" Ana asked.

Lucien shrugged. "Hell if I know," he said, "But I don't think you're going to make much progress just standing here and pulling on it."

Ana shook her head. "Yeah, I guess so," she said, "I just want to do something, anything, that will make people take me seriously."

"Trust me, they already do," Lucien said, "Your entire training squad is terrified of you, and the instructors want to put you in the group ahead of you."

"I don't want handouts," Ana said, waving that off with one hand.

"It's not a handout if you've earned it, and I think you have," Lucien said.

It was pleasant to be able to talk to the prince like this, at least when it was just the two of them. Royals didn't typically make for casual conversation. The queen always had an unflappable air of authority wherever she went, and Ana didn't even dream of just being able to talk to her, and as for the princess, she was insecure and constantly nervous around soldiers, but that was because she was being groomed to be the next queen, and didn't have that air of authority yet.

And ever since she'd come to the castle two years ago to officially begin training to be a knight, the prince had been friendly to Ana ever since they met. He was an easy-going sort, and easy to talk to. Even so, a few months ago, he'd approached her with an offer to eat dinner with him, and it had come as a shock. She didn't consider herself the type to be courted by the classic handsome prince, and even less did she consider herself the type to fall for such a person, but the fact it had been a wonderful night, and then they'd had breakfast together the following morning as well.

Though even then, she'd expected that to be all of it, that he'd likely be the type to move on to other girls, but the invitation had been repeated several times since. She couldn't deny it was exhilarating, being the subject of the prince's affections, though she had told him she didn't want him to use his position to try to smooth her progression to knighthood. He'd simply smiled and said that they were just two people enjoying each other's company.

Ana's mother had been insistent she keep a supply of a Lothsanian tea leaves on hand at all times, as the tea brewed from them would prevent a woman from becoming pregnant if she drank it the morning after. At the time her mother had told her that, she'd thought it a rather silly concern, but becoming pregnant now, even with the prince's child, would not bode well for her future career.

So it came as no surprise, as she leaned down to pick up her jacket, the prince proposed such a meeting again. "By the way, I've got nothing else going on tonight," he said, "Would you like to come up and have dinner with me?"

Ana pulled on her jacket, adjusting it onto her shoulders and started to button it up. "What are we having?" she asked.

* * *

The Princess Zelda decided she needed some fresh air after the unexpected turn in the forum. Petty disputes she expected, but a foreign messenger was something she was not prepared for. Now she sat down on a marble bench in the royal garden. The gardens were close enough to the training field, on the other side of the inner walls, that she could hear the shouting and clashes of metal from here.

The empire…

Of course she knew who they were, and had heard about their civil war ever since she was a little girl. But they always seemed like something far off, so far it would never have any real effect on the people here. The messenger appearing was like the empire was suddenly much closer.

But her mother had taken control the situation as always. The princess found herself wondering what the message was truly about. Was it really better that she had not attended the meeting?

The stories had been coming across the border with traders and mercenaries. Of a young emperor, crowned at a mere age of fifteen, leading his men to victory over the rebel forces time and again, and the examples he made of the traitors. Each victory, his enemies were impaled on wooden spikes and left for all to see. Sometimes it was only a few, sometimes several dozen, but more and more kept telling these tales as years passed. He must have impaled hundreds of men and women by this point.

These exploits had become so well-known, he was known even by other nations as the infamous title of "Max the Impaler."

The queen was always taking steps to build Hyrule's defenses. So much so that her political enemies in court had no hesitation in calling her a warmonger, though exactly how installing immovable defenses on the city walls, such as the Goron canons, would cause war, even when she was younger the princess could not understand.

When she asked her mother about it, the queen had simply told her to follow, and led her to a memorial that had been built near the castle walls. A large, four-story stone building that had been constructed following the war of the Blighted Men. The princess had never been there herself, but she understood it was built to honor the fallen of that war.

But when she had gone inside, it was nothing like she had expected. She had assumed there would be a plaque, and empty drivel about never forgetting those who gave their lives, but instead there was something far more involved.

The walls and ceiling of the memorial were all constructed from obsidian, the black volcanic glass being very rare and hard to come by in Hyrule, meaning the construction itself had cost a fortune. And carved into the obsidian were names. Name after name after name, one after the next, each wall showing thousands of names, and more across the ceiling as well. Room after room, it was the same, until they came to an end in the final room, where the stairs to the second floor were also located.

"What is this?" she had asked, staring at the names on the wall before here.

"Inscribed here are the names of every soldier, whether man or woman, Hylian, Zora, or Goron, who has died in my service," the queen had said, "Every one. It is impossible to remember all their names myself, and that's why I had this built."

There were days when the queen would come here, and those days were closed to the public, but the queen would be here for hours at a time, and when she left, she would never speak to anyone of what she did there, so the princess was compelled to ask.

"I come here, and I think," her mother had said, "As a ruler, you will have to give orders that knowingly send good men and women to their deaths. You will have to let a hundred die in one place so that a thousand may be saved elsewhere. It is the cold, ruthless arithmetic of war. And the people dying, they are not doing it for themselves. They are doing it because they believe in me. They follow my orders because they follow me. And they follow me because they trust me.

"So I come here to think about them. About all the lives my orders have ended, and the lives that will still end because of me. They trusted me. And ask if I failed them. But in the end, I live for them, and for all the other people of Hyrule, and through me, they also lived for Hyrule. I have my days of doubt, when I wonder if it is all worth it. And that's what this place reminds me of. Because if I do give up on what I'm trying to build for the future, if I do cease seeking better ways to protect this nation, then all these lives will have ended for no reason. Then I will have failed them."

She had never known any of the names that were now carved into the wall before her, yet the princess had tears in her eyes as she walked, more names than she could count passing her vision. Every one of those names had been a real, living person at some point, and their life cut tragically short in the name of another.

"War is a terrible thing," was all she could think to say.

"Yes, it is," the queen said, stepping up beside her daughter and putting an arm around her shoulders, "But there will come times when you have no choice. There are people in the world who will not talk, they will not listen, and they will deprive you of that choice. Those for whom peace is an inconvenience. They will scream their hatred and bigotry over all reasonable arguments, and claim that you are the villain for not conforming to their beliefs. Keeping the people divided and angry is the means by which they keep power. They don't care about the common man, only in keeping their power over the common man. Hyrule and our races living in peace with one another is the antithesis to their very existence. And when they come, you must be ready to face them. Whether by sword, magic, or canon, when it is their people or yours, you must be ready to make your stand.

"There is no shame in fighting to protect yourself and your people. There is no shame in fighting to bring about peace. And these foes will not give in quietly. They will fight and scream to the bloody end. The more they realize they are losing and cornered, the more desperately they will scream their lies and hatreds to try to rally the weak-minded to their side. They are a cult, an infection on humanity. They will show you no mercy, no compassion, and no forgiveness. While the common folk may be saved if they are willing to have open minds, the monsters who push the hatreds will not. So just as they would show you no mercy, you must show them none.

"And then in times of peace, you must be ever vigilant, on the watch for such beings whom would sow chaos and hatred for their own gain. There is no shame in deterrence. Having a weapon is very different from actually using it. And using it is still different from using it abusively.

"It's a lesson that if I had learned sooner, the Twilight Invasion might have never reached the escalation it did."

The princess had thought about what her mother told her that day countless times. It was why she feared becoming queen herself. Could she live up to that? The cold arithmetic of war… It was such a terrifying thought, to think she would have to knowingly send soldiers to their deaths, even if it did mean saving more in the long run.

But what did it mean if the empire was now unified and looking this way? The mountains stood as a protective wall between their lands, but would not stop them if an invasion was impending. Was the messenger bringing a demand to surrender?

She was shaken by her thoughts by the gardeners coming closer, trimming the plants as they moved, and one moving behind her, carrying a watering can for the rose bushes a few feet from the bench she sat upon.

"Excuse me, could you come back in a few minutes?" she asked, "I'd like to be left alone for a bit longer."

"Don't worry, your highness," the woman's voice behind her said, "You'll be alone soon enough."

"What?" the princess said as she turned, and caught a glimpse of it. The gardener's hand, close to her, and on one finger was a band with a small needle visible to the naked eye.

She tried to move, but the gardener's hand clamped to the side of her throat and she felt the prick of the needle on her skin. She cried out, jumping up and moving away. There were shouts, and the sound of swords being drawn from their scabbards. The other gardeners had weapons and moved to surround her.

Each of them also quickly reached into their vests, drawing something forth and lifting it to their faces. In a matter of seconds, the princess was surrounded by identical white masks concealing the faces of her attackers.

"You lot keep them off us!" said the one who had grabbed the princess's neck, stepping over the bench, her own face now also concealed by a white mask.

The princess turned and saw her bodyguards coming. The black-clad ninja were appearing from around seemingly every bush and statue, swords drawn as the other attackers turned on them. The first ninja to reach one of the white-masked attackers had a result predictable for those who knew how the ninja fought. He evaded a relatively clumsy swing of the attacker's blade with a simple sidestep, and then the ninja's own sword whistled as it moved through the air and a streak of blood appeared on the nearby statue, the attacker's body already falling as their head finally rolled away from their shoulders.

But even before the body had hit the ground, the effect of the needle hit the princess, a throb in her head causing her vision to the blur, and the world around her to spin.

"Poison?" she whispered. Then she felt a strong grip on her arm, preventing her from falling.

"Just a sedative, my dear," the woman who had attacked her whispered from behind the mask, "He wants you alive."

"Get the princess!" one of the ninja shouted, and two of them broke away from the line of other masks, closing the distance to the princess in a single leap.

The woman with a grip on the princess leaped backwards, dragging the princess with her as they moved what seemed impossibly far for such a jump, over the bench and past the bushes behind it with the single leap.

"You've got nowhere to go!" one of the ninja said as the two split up, moving to come at her from both sides.

"That's where you're wrong," the woman said, and with her free hand produced a small blue crystal from a pocket of her clothes. An instant later, she crushed it in her hand, and a blinding flash of light filled the courtyard, forcing all present to look away.

Then the light faded, and the woman and the princess were both gone.

"Magic!" one of the ninja said, "Or a flash bomb!"

The fight was not going well for the masks, only two of them were still standing, the others either dead already or bleeding out on the grass.

"Take them alive!" one ninja said, "We need answers! You, run for the gates, inform the guards and order the castle locked down! Every second counts!"

On of the two ninja who had moved to help the princess broke away at a sprint. If the kidnapper was still inside the castle walls, they'd be found.

With effective moves, the remaining ninja were able to disarm the two surviving masks, and tackled them to the ground, quickly trying their hands.

"Send word to the queen," one of the ninja said, "She must know the princess has been taken."


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3: Save the Princess!**

Princess Zelda's head swam as the sedative worked its way through her body, and she couldn't remain on her feet. She couldn't walk, falling to her knees as soon as her captor released their grip. She remembered the flash of light, and a feeling like she was being pulled, but not by a person but by a force that evenly pulled her entire body, and then they were no longer in the garden, and she fell into tall grass nearly up to her elbows as she caught herself on her hands.

Her vision was swimming, like looking through distorted glass, and she fought to keep her wits about her, but she still wasn't sure what she was looking at before her. A low clearing in-between hills on all sides, and a stone construction in the middle. A circle of stones laid out in the pattern of a five pointed star that was inside of a circle. And in the center of the star was a flat stone slab, which was stained with something, but in her swimming vision, she wasn't even certain of the color.

She assumed the worst, that the stain must be blood.

And gathering around her were more of of the white masks, a crowd of at least twenty people, all dressed identically in white robes and hoods to match the masks. One of them handed her kidnapper a robe as well, that the masked woman pulled on over the gardener's clothes she had been disguised in.

Zelda felt a hand grip her chin, forcing her to look at the mask of another captor, who was knelt down directly in front of her. She hadn't even noticed him move toward her, her head was so groggy now. But no, he wasn't knelt down. He must have only been three and half feet tall. A child? But the cold detachment in his eyes through the slits in the mask said he was anything but.

And his voice was that of a man as well when he spoke. "Take her to the center of the circle and lie her down on the altar," he said without looking away from her face, "Gently. We don't want any harm done yet."

Hands gripped her under her arms, and she was carried toward the circle by two of the figures, and lay her down on her back on the stone slab. She couldn't even muster the strength to try to stand up, so no bindings were needed to hold her there.

The short figure came up to her side, looking down at her. He reached toward her face and slowly ran his fingers along her cheek. A shiver went down her spine in revulsion at the touch, and the sight of the grotesque blue skin of his hand. "A shame it has to happen to a beauty like you," he whispered, then reached into his robe and drew out a vicious looking curved knife that he laid down on the stone slab next to her head.

For how groggy she was, Zelda felt her heart pounding, and could almost hear it like an earthquake in her ears.

"You don't know what you're starting," she managed to say, "The knights will be coming for me and they will find you."

"Oh, my poor child," the figure said, "That's exactly what I'm counting on."

* * *

The alarm was spread quickly through the castle grounds. The main gate and side entrances were locked down, and guards placed on high alert, searching the grounds, the storerooms, and the walls themselves. Meanwhile, patrols began combing the streets of the city, searching every alley and road for the kidnapper and the princess. The outer gates of the city were all locked down, barring passage in or out until the searched was complete.

"How did they get in?" the queen demanded of the guards as she approached the area where the fight had occurred.

"They were disguised as gardeners, your majesty," the guard leading her said, "They likely came into the castle with the regular staff this morning."

Two of the kidnappers were still alive, and on their knees in the garden with several of the ninja standing guard over them with weapons drawn. The prisoners' hands were bound behind their backs and their masks had been removed, but none of the witnesses recognized the two men.

Walking behind the queen, Link and Kilishandra took in the sight. Six bodies still lay where they fell on the grass and walkways, and blood had been splashed on the surrounding plants and a statue of the goddess Farore. At least one of the bodies had been decapitated in the fighting, and a large pool of blood was visible near the corpse's neck.

"Where was the kidnapper standing when she disappeared?" Kilishandra asked on of the ninja, and he motioned for her to follow, and led her over to the spot behind a bench.

Sure enough, the grass had black scorch-marks in a circle. Either it had been a powerful flash bomb, or some kind of magic, and fortunately for them there was no one in the kingdom more naturally sensitive to magic than Kilishandra. She could feel it as she approached the spot, like a lingering sensation in the air that made the hair on her neck stand on end. They'd reported a crystal that the woman had crushed in her hand, causing her to vanish, along with the princess.

"Give me a few minutes," she said, and the ninja nodded, stepping away so she had room.

Damian and Lance were following behind the others, and had watched her break away from the group. They walked behind Link and the queen as they approached the prisoners.

"Where is my daughter?" the queen demanded as she came to a stop in front of them.

"We beg your forgiveness, your majesty," one of the ninja said, bowing deeply, "We did not react quickly enough and she was taken. But we will find her with all due haste. And we have these two to tell us."

Zelda bit her tongue, holding back the anger she felt. The ninja had been nothing but loyal to her family since they came to Hyrule with her over two decades ago. Taking out her fury on them would accomplish nothing, so she instead turned to the prisoners.

"Where is she?" she asked again.

"The master has her now," one of the prisoners said, "His plan is in motion."

"And what plan is that?" Zelda asked.

The man who had spoken looked up into her face. What she saw terrified her. No fear, no concern, and a confident smile as he spoke.

"To bring God to this world."

"What does my daughter have to do with that?" Zelda asked.

As angry as she was, her phrasing was deliberate. Always referring to her daughter as just that, to try to sow a seed of familial connection. It was a technique that tended to create sympathy, and possible turn the mind of the listener, but the smile on his face showed it wasn't working.

"A sacrifice is necessary to open the gateway."

That tipped her over. Those gathered may as well have heard an audible snap in the air. Zelda snatched the belt-knife she wore and struck the prisoner across the side of his head. There were gasps from those thinking she had stabbed him, only to realize a second later that there was no blood as he fell, and she had struck him with the hilt, knocking him cold.

"You," she said, pointing the blade toward the second prisoner, "Where have you taken her?"

The prisoner just shook his head and smiled.

But before Zelda asked again, Kilishandra called out, causing those gathered to turn to her.

"I have it," she said, "It was a short-range travel spell. Furthest they could have jumped is about ten miles." She paused, turning in place, then pointed over to the west wall. "That way."

"Send word to Captain Darren," Zelda said, turning to a nearby guard, "I want men and horses ready to go as soon as possible. As many as can be raised."

The soldier saluted and turned, sprinting for the guard house.

"Link," Zelda said, turning to him, "I want you and Kilishandra to go ahead, find them and see what we're going up against. Don't engage them if you don't have to, and I'll have an army coming to help you as soon as possible."

"We'll find them," Link said with a nod, and looked toward Kilishandra as she moved toward them.

"I don't care how many of them you have to kill," Zelda said, "Just bring my daughter back to me."

"Let's get the horses," Link said to Kilishandra, "We don't have time to waste."

"Right behind you," Lance said, motioning to Damien, who nodded.

Link glanced at them as he walked past. "You two just try to keep up," he said.

Their path was immediately blocked by two ninja stepping in front of them, both giving a simultaneous salute.

"Hey there!" the first said, her voice almost sing-song, "We're the scouts the queen ordered to join you."

"Wait a second," Lance said, looking closer, "Lilith? Natalya? How did you get here so quickly?"

"Well, we were in the city," the second of the pair said, "We came straight to the castle when we got the message."

Lilith and Natalya were the twin daughters of Alexander and Silviana Ragefaust, a pair of retired adventurers now living in Ordon, and old friends of Link and Kilishandra. The twins were about five years older than Lance, and their mother had taught them everything she knew about survival, which included skills such as tracking and moving unseen. This made them natural recruits for the ninja when they both elected for military service.

Lance hadn't seen much of them since joining the army himself, but he'd grown up with them, and their presence brought reassurance. They wore the same black leather armor as the other ninja, with hoods and masks down at the moment so their faces were visible. They had their mother's snow-white hair, but lighter skin, what could be described as a chocolate brown due to their mixed blood. They were also identical twins, so similar in voice and appearance that most couldn't tell them apart, though Lance could see with just a quick glance, because Lilith had a small scar on her upper lip that Natalya did not. It was small and had healed well since the event that had given it to her, to the point one was unlikely to notice it unless they already knew exactly where to look.

"We were also told to give you this," Natalya said, offering a small wooden box to Link.

He took the box and opened the lid. "Oh," he said, "Are these the new model?"

"We were told they should have an effective range of up to thirty miles," Natalya said, "Beyond that, the signal gets distorted, and the further you are the worse the distortion gets. And the queen already has hers."

"Excellent," Link said, and reached into the box with his free hand, taking something and offering it to Kilishandra.

It was an earring that Lance saw as she took it. And in just a second, she removed the earring she had been wearing from her right ear and replaced it with the new one. Link did the same with his own as well, and they deposited the old ones in the box.

"We'll need two more in the future, for these kids," Link said, gesturing toward Lance and Damien, "They're coming with us now as well."

"Oh, new Eyes of the Queen?" Lilith asked, clapping her hands together and smiling, "We'll have to have drinks to celebrate!"

"No time," Link said, "Come on. We need to get the horses and get moving. I'll explain on the way."

* * *

As quickly as they tried to move, it was still nearly an hour before they were out of the city, six horses pounding the earth under their hooves, Kilishandra leading the way toward their destination at full gallop.

"Sounds like the guards need a bit of a shakeup," Natalya said over the sound of the pounding hooves, "If strangers walked right in, dressed as gardeners or no, they should have known something was up."

"You know as well as I do that guards and gardeners both come and go," Link said, "Every time I'm in the castle, there's new people around."

"That's because you're gone for months at a time, off saving the world again," Natalya said, "So what do you think we're walking into?"

"Well, they wore the same mask is this death cult responsible for recent murders," Link said, "So I'm expecting fanatics, but no idea how many of them will actually be trained to fight."

"But they've been murdering farmers and the like," Damien said, "Why'd they come for the princess specifically?"

"No idea," Link said, "Let's just get her back safe, then we'll worry about the why."

"We're getting close to where they'd have landed," Kilishandra said, "Keep your eyes open."

The group refocused their attention to their surroundings, leaving the conversations for later. The sound of the horses' hooves and panting became the only sounds they could hear even as they tried to listen for anything else at all.

All except for Kilishandra's horse, that is, which did not even seem slightly winded by the pace. Those who knew what the beast was would understand, though. Ebony was pure black stallion's name, and he was originally the mount of the now legendary wizard, Ganondorf, who was also Kilishandra's adoptive father. Ganondorf had gifted Ebony to her several decades ago, calling it a form of coming of age present.

Ebony was otherworldly in more than just his stamina. Ganondorf had revealed to her that the horse was in fact a lesser demon from another plane entirely. This was also confirmed by the stallion's burning red eyes, and the fact when he snorted, small jets of flame tended to erupt from his nostrils. And he was deadly smart. Link's old mare, Epona, had been smart for a horse, but Kilishandra swore that Ebony could understand every word spoken to him.

But time passed and Epona got old, and was now spending her twilight years peacefully in a pasture in Ordon. Ebony was still strong and seemingly ageless. In fact, while the royal horses the others now rode were fine examples of the species, she was having to hold Ebony back to keep him from leaving them behind.

And their destination came into sight as they crested a hill, and six figures were visible in the distance, near a black scorch mark on the grass of the field. But there was immediately something wrong with the figures ahead.

"Looks like they're hanging around," Lance said, reaching for his sword.

"Hold on," Link said, "Those aren't the same people."

The figures turned at the sound of the approaching horses, but made no effort to flee. Two that had been kneeling next to the scorched grass rose to their feet. Three of them held spears, but kept them upright with the butts resting on the ground, and the others made no move for their swords or bows.

There were also six horses, one for each, nearby, stopped to get at the grass while they could.

Kilishandra pulled Ebony to slow down, and the others followed, coming to a stop about twenty feet away from the new group and approaching more slowly.

Now they were close enough, Link was certain of it. They were Gerudo.

"What the hell..." Damien whispered, causing Lance to look over at him, but he added nothing else.

The all female race of the desert, their skin darker than any Hylians, but were also easily identifiable by their sheer size. Each of these women was about eight feet tall, and stacked with enough muscle to make Hylian men feel insignificant. And looking them in the face, their eyes had a far harder shape than most Hylians, and their sharp noses stood out among their other features.

But the fact was, the Gerudo had not been seen outside their desert for thousands of years. Until Link and Kilishandra had encountered a group of them about twenty years ago, they'd even been thought to be extinct.

"Sav'aaq, travelers!" one of the Gerudo said, raising a hand in greeting then gestured to the scorch mark behind her, "I assume you're here about this, judging by your hurry."

Her posture was non-threatening, in spite of the curved sword hanging from her hip and bow over her shoulder. Link also spotted her quiver hanging from the opposite hip from her sword, and numerous feathers visible within.

Link moved his horse up next to Kilishandra. "This the place?" he asked.

"Yes, this is where they'd have landed," Kilishandra said.

Taking that initiative, Link addressed the Gerudo. "Aye," Link said, "Did you see what caused that burn?"

"Not personally," the Gerudo said, "A scout reported a flash of light and bang like thunder. We were sent to investigate."

"What are the Gerudo doing this far from the desert?" Link asked.

"We're part of a delegation sent by Warchief Naveila," the Gerudo said, "We were coming to your capital bearing gifts and greeting, in order to introduce ourselves to your people. Twenty-two of us altogether. The others are about half a mile that direction," she added, pointing to the southwest. "You can call me Areil. I'm a scout, mainly, but part of the escort for the diplomats."

"Well, this is an interesting day, to say the least," Kilishandra said, low enough that only Link could hear.

"You can call me Link, then," Link said to Areil, "But you'll pardon us for not having time for pleasantries, our task is quite urgent. We need to know if your other scout saw anything else, beyond the flash. Were there any people here?"

"In fact, the scout did report seeing two people, moving away from this place, but she returned to our caravan to report," Areil said.

"Which direction?" Link asked.

"I can tell you better," Areil said, pointing to the ground near the scorch marks, "The people you seek made no effort to conceal their tracks."

"Let us look," Natalya said, and she and Lilith stepped down from their saddles without waiting for permission, walking toward the scorch mark. The Gerudo parted, allowing them through.

"May I ask what this is about?" Areil asked.

Link glanced at Kilishandra. She gave only a slight shake of her head, almost imperceptible. And she was right. Telling strangers that the princess had been kidnapped would not do, though they were likely hoping for the impossible that the news hadn't traveled outside the castle walls yet.

"We're chasing a kidnapper," Link said, "That scorch mark is where they arrived after a short-range teleportation spell."

"From the city? That's short-range?" Areil said, turning toward the mark, sounding incredulous.

"What we call long-range would be going to the other end of the world," Kilishandra said, "But now's not the time to discuss meta-physics."

"What do you see, girls?" Link asked, looking up to Lilith and Natalya.

The two of them had circled the scorch mark, and now Natalya leaned down, squatting low and leaning on her hands.

"Grass is broken here, torn by something, or someone, being dragged across it," she said, leaning her face low to the ground, eyes on the trail, and she crawled on her hands and knees as she followed it, "Footprints here, pressed into the earth. Then here the same feet, but deeper in the ground. The drag marks vanish. They picked up a weight, likely our victim, to carry them. Long strides. They were in a hurry. They went that way," she pointed to the northwest as she rose back to her feet.

"Their mother has taught them well," Kilishandra said quietly to Link.

"That one at least," Link whispered back, then said louder, "Back on your horses. We don't have time to waste."

"Wait a second," Areil said, "Someone's in trouble, obviously. Looks to me like you could use some more bodies, since there's only six of you."

"Trust me, six is plenty," Link said as the two ninja climbed back on their horses, "Go back to your caravan. Maybe we'll see you in the capital in a few hours."

"I don't know how you Hylians do things, but when one of our tribes needs help, we help them," Areil said, and motioned to the other Gerudo, then said something in their tongue that was lost on Link and the others, which was acknowledged by several shouts in their own language.

The Gerudo all moved toward their own horses, climbing onto their mounts and while those with spears moved them to easy positions to carry them, others checked that their swords were free in the scabbards and tested the tautness of bowstrings.

"What did you tell them?" Link asked.

"That one of your tribe has been taken against their will," Areil said as she climbed onto the back of her own horse, "Like it or not, we ride with you this day, voe."

"We can't promise your safety if you do," Kilishandra said.

"Didn't expect you to," Areil said, "Shall we?"

Link shook his head and let out a defeated sigh. "Very well," he said, "Let's get going, before they get more of a lead on us."

* * *

Far from Hyrule at that time, in the east, stood the great capital of the Riastad Empire. A city numbering more that eight hundred thousand people, more than three times the size of Hyrule's capital, and above it rose the six spires of the Crimson Palace. Home of the emperor and what remained of his family following his father's death and the civil war.

The palace was nearly empty. Capable of housing nearly one thousand people, but there were less than one hundred inhabitants these days, including both the castle staff and royal guard.

The walls echoed their footsteps ominously as the young emperor walked with his two personal guards. He remembered walking these halls as a child, filled with people, both servants of the crown and civilians. Merchants and politicians, citizens coming to hear their grievances heard. These halls had always been filled with voices and sound, like being in the heart of a city market.

But the civil war had damaged the empire, and left these halls as still as a tomb.

It was a reminder to young Maximilian that while he may have at last done away with the rebels, there was much to do yet to rebuild the damage of the past decade on the nation.

He was passing through the central hall. It was the large waiting room in front of the actual throne room, and the waiting space for those who had come to attempt to speak with the emperor on the open forum. It was also where the palace defenders had thought they'd be making their last stand during the initial coup attempt eight years ago.

That was when the impossible had happened, at least according to the storytellers. When the new emperor, barely fifteen years old, led them to victory over vastly superior numbers, and started the loyalist movement that would finally end the rebellion almost a decade later.

It was far from impossible, however. Maximilian had been educated to be a leader and ruler every since he was young. He didn't have the idyllic childhood of the common folk. At age six, commoners would be playing tag and have not a care in the world. At six, Maximilian was learning combat formations and troop maneuvers. He was studying ancient nations that no longer existed, learning not just the how, but also the why that led to their collapses.

Fifteen was merely the age when he proved himself. He had taken command when the captain of the royal guard had been felled by an arrow through his throat, and he had used his limited resources wisely. He had his troops perform a rolling retreat through the vast halls of the palace, peppering their attackers with arrows and bolts until began to come too close, then withdrew further, blocking doors and erecting barricades in their path.

It wasn't a fight that could be won by courage and direct combat, but by cunning and whittling the enemy's numbers down while minimizing his own losses.

Live soldiers were more useful than dead heroes. That had become the policy of his military going forward, and he adhered to it to this day. Never throw lives away to accomplish a goal that can be achieved by other methods, even if it would take longer. He could have ended the civil war much sooner if he'd been willing to spend lives more freely, but chose not to.

He paused now, looking at the memorial that stood in the center of the chamber. It was a relic, from long before even his father's time. A time when the Bahdi had sought to press into their lands. There were one hundred names on the memorial, of all the dead from the battle on the eastern front. Brave men who gave their lives to buy time for reinforcements to arrive.

A foolish waste, he thought. In his time studying the event, he was certain that those hundred, as well as the hundreds more that died fighting afterward, could have been saved, or at least the losses reduced, if they had just withdrawn some distance, let the Bahdi have the small piece of land, and lured the Bahdi vanguard into a trap set by the larger imperial forces.

But the plaque also bore a line of text, a quote from the emperor of that time, that Maximilian read and couldn't help but feel the force of the words.

"_Brothers in life, they stood until the end, brothers in death, the few against the fateful horde. Form a wall, live to fall, and live forever."_

But even though those words stirred something deep in him, Maximilian dismissed it. Live forever? Their names were written here, but not a soul alive now could recount them from memory. They remembered the event, but not the truth of it. The legend had overtaken the history in the minds of most, and rewritten it as something far grander than it actually was.

And above the names was the statue. Four men standing in a circle, all back to back, their weapons drawn and their shields held ready, but they were just nameless images, though they had once been made to look like the captains that led the final stand.

The old empire had fallen. Its ways had been what led to the very rebellion Maximilian had been fighting for a full third of his years. But while the nations he had studied as a child had collapsed completely, he had managed to salvage what was left of this one. He could not rest, or what he already had would crumble away, like ashes though his fingers.

He had no intention of rebuilding the empire as it had once been. A new empire must replace it, like a phoenix rising from the ashes of its own predecessor. And he had to be the figure that those under him looked to for both guidance and inspiration.

One never realized just what being a ruler meant until one had to actually do it. He had to maintain his fearless, unflappable visage at all times. If his men saw him in doubt or fear, it would affect them as well, and morale was a powerful force.

There was only one person he dared let his guard down when he was with, and then only when it was just the two of them.

As he walked further into the halls, exactly where he expected there were two guards standing outside a door that led into a bedroom. He ordered his own guards to wait outside, and stepped into the room, closing the door behind himself.

"It's me," he announced.

"Oh, there's my little brother," came a woman's voice from further in the room. The room was dark, but that was because the one who lived here did not need light. "I was wondering when you'd come to visit after the news of the Count's death reached us."

Maximilian moved into the center of the room, letting his eyes slowly adjust to the dimness. But right where he knew it would be was the table, with three seats, and seated on one side was the woman in question.

Her eyes stared straight through him, and she did not look at her hands as she turned over an extra cup and reached for a pot of tea, pouring it into the cup, then pushing it across the table to him.

"The worst of that is finally over," he said, taking the cup as he sat down, "But I can't stay long, I'm afraid."

"Hyrule is next on your list, isn't it?" she asked.

Maximilian took a moment to look at her, his eyes finally adjusting to the darkness of the room.

She was Vivian Riastad, his older sister, by four years. She was currently wearing just a simple sitting gown, as she had no reason to entertain guests other than himself. But each time he saw her, he could not help but feel she'd have been strikingly beautiful, if not for her problem. She was pale, but that was because of the lack of sun, as she never had reason to go out. Her hair was blonde, like his own, and her face was immaculate, while his was already becoming weathered by the sun and stress of of the battles he'd been fighting for eight years. While Maximilian was only twenty-three, he looked older than she did.

But the problem he thought of was her eyes. They were milky, like a white substance had covered over their surfaces, and had been that way since she was born. It was also the mark of her blindness. Ever since she was born, she'd been unable to see. As a result, she seemed to always stare into the distance, or straight through whoever she was speaking to.

She had pushed aside the book she'd been reading when he entered, and he glanced down at it but a moment. This book, while to his eyes in the dim light, the pages were completely blank, he knew it was one of many he'd had printed in braille for her. When she had voiced interest in the subjects, he had ordered braille copies of every book on history, strategy, and politics that he had himself been educated by. She had devoured these voraciously, and more were constantly needed. In spite of her other circumstances, she was smart. The dangerous kind of smart. The kind of smart that if she weren't his sister or blind, he'd keep even more careful an eye on her than he already did.

"You knew Hyrule would be next?" he asked, "I don't think I ever told you that."

"But you've spoken of the land itself often enough, and your interest in their queen," Vivian said, "I believe you said you'd love to meet the woman who is the rival for any man as a ruler."

"Well, I've sent the messenger, and he should be in Hyrule by now," Maximilian said, "Now it's just waiting for the return to see if she is willing to meet with me."

"Ah, and what will you offer her?" Vivian asked.

"I think that depends on what kind of woman she actually is," Maximilian said, "If she is as strong as I've heard, it may be worth pursuing a mutually beneficial agreement for our nations. If she is actually weak, then I may simply have to crush Hyrule to secure our border."

"Integrating Hyrule will be difficult," Vivian said, "We have humans of several nationalities in our nation already, as well as Rito and a Bahdi citizens as well. That's already a lot of clashing cultures. Adding the Hylians, Gorons, and Zora would be a major shift in balance."

"That's why I'm curious how Hyrule manages it," Maximilian said, "Somehow they have their cultures working together without the friction we have. It's something I intend to look into."

"And what of their wizard?" Vivian asked, "The one that, according to the stories, can decimate entire armies single-handed? With that kind of power on our side, the empire would be unstoppable."

"Just legends," Maximilian said, "I've had the historians digging hard into that. While there was a figure that was the cause of such legends, Ganondorf Dragmire, they are certain that the legends are just that, and the man was nowhere near that scale. What's more, the idea that he's still alive is absurd. He'd be over four thousand years old at this point."

"I hope you're right," Vivian said, "If he were alive, well, then this tiny kingdom of Hyrule would be a real threat to the Empire."

"Even if it were true, that's going to change," Maximilian said, "I will not let this empire fall to anyone, wizard or otherwise. Hyrule will submit or be forced to heel."

"As interested as you are in her, don't underestimate their queen," Vivian said, "There have been plenty of stories and rumors that have reached our people. Some say she is the deadly wizard we've heard about, while others claim that wizard is the father of her children.

"Though it does stay consistent when they say she is unmarried, her heirs born out of wedlock and she'd execute any who dare call them bastards. An unmarried woman on the throne with bastard children, that makes me curious what she does to maintain that. She must have enemies in court, but her followers may simply be that fiercely loyal that those enemies dare not move against her."

"Well, what reports I have do say she always has a bodyguard at her side," Maximilian said, "But that's not what you meant."

"There's a difference between a soldier who will protect his monarch because he has been trained to, and one who will do so because he truly believes it is the right thing to do," Vivian said, "One may break and run to save his own life, while the other will voluntarily fight to the death if it means the monarch will survive."

"I won't know until I meet her," Maximilian said, "And if nothing else brings her around, perhaps our mutual friends in the white masks will entice her cooperation. Has there been any news about them in my absence?"

"Only that the attacks have changed their outcomes," Vivian said, "The last I heard, they are still targeting remote farms, isolated locations far from help, but they've stopped leaving as many bodies. They've been taking people alive."

"Why that shift?" Maximilian asked, more to himself than to Vivian, "Suddenly changing their M.O. doesn't make any sense at this point, unless they do have a purpose beyond sowing fear and unrest."

"There's more," Vivian said, "All the kidnapping victims have more in common than previous attacks. Everyone they've abducted have been pregnant women."

"That's bizarre," Maximilian said, stroking his chin as he thought, trying to remember anything he might have read or heard that would hint at the purpose, but was drawing a blank. But he had an idea of where to start looking for an answer. "Sorry to leave so soon," he said, standing up, "but I need to look into this."

"I understand," Vivian said, "Do remember to come tell me about the queen after you meet her. I'm curious what kind of woman she is as well."

Maximilian walked toward the door, his thoughts already ahead, silently hypothesizing every outcome he could imagine for why a death cult would want pregnant women. And he was certain one of them had to be true, it was just a question of which one. What he knew beyond a doubt, however, was that it was going to be a very unpleasant subject, and there likely was no saving those that had already been taken.

* * *

"That makes twenty-eight of them," Link whispered.

It hadn't been much further until the group came upon the gathering. They had left their horses and crept closer to get a view of what lay in wait for them. Now Link lay on the ground, barely peeking over the crest of the hill looking into the low valley where the group was gathered. All wearing white masks, the group were moving through the clearing, and were clearly preparing for some form of ritual.

He could see the princess, lying on her back on a rectangular stone slab in the center, not moving, but at this distance, Link could see no visible wounds or damage to her clothing, so it was safe to say she was likely unconscious.

Around this slab, the group had arranged a large number of smaller bricks, laid out in circles of increasing size, creating three rings around that center slab, and a fourth was being placed even now.

"I've never seen magic circles like that," Link said.

"Neither have I," Kilishandra said.

A normal magic circle was what some called a pentagram. A five-pointed star with a circle drawn around it, the tips of each point of the star touching that circle, and another circle a few inches out from that, with the gap between those circles filled with drawn runes of various shapes. It had a meaning about the world and nature of life, but it was something Link never worried about. The runes drawn in the circle were related to what it could do, and he had learned to recognize many dangerous ones over the years, but never a user of magic himself, his knowledge stopped there.

But if these rings the cultists were making had some purpose, neither he or Kilishandra, who knew far more of magic than he did, recognized it.

Lance and Damien were on the other side of Link, also looking over the hill into the clearing. Lance spotted two of the cultists standing near the slab. One appeared to be a child, the other taller, but still a slender frame, likely a woman.

"Those two in the middle there," he said to Link, "They're not helping with the work."

"Yeah, I see them," Link said, "Likely that woman is the person in charge. Though a child being there… Either her child or..."

"Or what?" Lance asked.

"I was about to say a dwarf, but they've been extinct for more than eight thousand years," Link said.

"I don't know, we thought that about the Gerudo for a long time," Kilishandra said, glancing over to her other side, where Areil lay, also looking over the scene below.

"Doesn't matter," Link said, "We need a plan for this."

"The queen said she would be bringing an army with her," Damien said, "Shouldn't we wait for her?"

"We wait and there might not be a princess left to save," Link said, and lifted one hand to his right ear, where that blue crystal earring waited. With a touch, it created a faint glow, and he whispered, "Where are you two?"

The voice of Lilith could be heard in his ear in response. "Far end of the valley," her reply came, "Looks like they're short on perimeter guards. Natty and I took care of the ones we came across, and the ones in the middle are unaware."

"I count twenty-eight of them from where we're at," Link whispered.

"Our count is thirty-four," Lilith said, then added, "Well, thirty now."

"Don't get reckless," Link said, "There's too many in the center to pick them off. Wait until I give you the signal."

"What was that?" Lance asked.

"Long distance communication," Link said, pointing at the earring, "I'll explain later. Let's see about this..."

"Even the ninja can't get in there without being seen," Kilishandra said.

"Yeah, broad daylight and no cover," Link said, "We're going to have to charge right in."

"Even with the Gerudo, they outnumber us three to one," Damien said.

"Look who's talking," Areil said, then turned to Kilishandra, "We don't have enough bows here for proper volleys, but we can use the high ground here to cover the group that runs in."

"No offense, but I don't know that I'd be comfortable with archers I don't know shooting in my direction," Lance said.

"How skilled are your archers?" Link asked.

Areil grinned. "We train to hit a perfect bullseye while riding at full gallop," she said, "You won't be hit in the back, I can promise that."

"And if we get their attention all focused our way, Lilith and Natalya can come in the other way and do a lot of damage," Link said, "They might even be able to get the princess out completely. But maybe we can thin their numbers a bit more first. Kili," he turned to Kilishandra, "Nothing too big, we don't want to risk the princess being hurt, but do you think you can do that?"

"I can," Kilishandra said, "I think a ball of fire right into their midst will suffice. If it doesn't reduce their numbers much, it will still cause confusion and maybe make them panic."

"Sounds good to me," Link said, and turned to Lance and Damien, "When I go in, I want you two right behind me the whole way. Even if it looks like we're going to be surrounded, just keep moving and don't let them catch up. Reaching the princess is all that matters, and then we'll have to get back out just as quickly. Last thing we want is to be stopped and forced to fight."

"Got it," Lance said, and glanced at Damien, who nodded his understanding, so he turned back to Link and said, "Lead the way, dad."

* * *

Princess Zelda had passed out from the drug, but her eyes shot open with a start when a most unusual sound hit her ears. Like a dull thump, more like sound being sucked away than a sound of itself. A wave of dizziness hit her as she tried to sit up, but as the thump faded from her ears.

It was screaming. Her vision was blurred, the drug still running through her, making even turning her head cause it to swim. She could make out lights, several of them, moving in her vision. One came closer, a scream growing louder, and she saw it come into form as it came close enough to make out even in her current state. It was a person, running and screaming, their clothing on fire.

And then their scream was cut off, the tip of an arrow erupting from their throat, and the princess felt something hot slap her face, clinging to her skin like syrup as the person fell to the ground beside her.

She turned her head, able to see him now, the mask fallen away from his face, only a few feet from her. He was unable to scream, clutching at his throat as blood pooled on the ground in front of him, and still on fire as the life slowly faded from his eyes, squared fixed on hers.

The princess felt a chill, in spite of the heat so close to her, staring into those eyes as the life drained from them.

Then another shape loomed over her, and a hand gripped her arm, pulling her upward, making her head swim again.

"It's okay, I've got you," said a familiar voice as he pulled her upright.

"Lance?" she managed, and then her knees buckled.

"Shit," Lance said, and grabbed her to keep her from falling, "Sorry about this, princess."

He knelt down quickly, and Zelda felt herself upside down as he picked her up over one shoulder.

The group had followed their plan, charging directly into the center in the chaos. Link had led the way, Lance and Damien on his heels, and the two of them could hardly believe it was happening. People on fire made no effort to stop them, and each time one stepped in Link's path, his blade flashed, cutting them down almost without even slowing down.

Lance of course knew all the stories of his father's prowess with a sword, but he'd never seen his father actually kill someone before, and was actually somewhat shocked by how effortless it seemed.

Now he turned with the princess over one shoulder, to see Link strike down another and Damien manage to turn the blade of one more, using his free hand to strike his attacker across the face with enough force to send him sprawling.

"Move!" Link shouted, and they made to get out of the mess before it closed in on them.

Only for their path to be cut off suddenly. One of the masked people stepped in front of them, lifting a sword in defense as Link struck at them. Their blades clashed, and Link pushed, trying to bowl his opponent over, only for them to push back and he found himself several feet off the ground, flying backward.

Link was no stranger to fighting foes stronger than himself. He used his momentum to turn in the air, turning his fall into a backflip, landing hard on both feet and falling to one knee to prevent himself from falling prone.

Lance and Damien both stopped, readying their weapons for this opponent as they cast aside the white cloak they had been wearing, revealing the feminine figure beneath, protected by hardened leather armor across her body.

"A woman threw me like that?" Link said, rising back to his feet.

Two figures suddenly appeared behind the woman. The curved blade of Areil's scimitar whistling as it passed through the air, only to clash loudly as the woman spun, blocking it with her own sword and pushing forward. The size difference between the two women was severe, the Gerudo towering over the other and at least twice her weight, yet the smaller woman put her free hand out, straight into Areil's chest with a vicious stiff-arm, and the Gerudo's feet lifted off the ground, the wind knocked from her as she flew five feet before landing hard on her back.

Kilishandra was approaching. Link knew exactly what she was doing, getting in close for a spell effective at disarming a single opponent.

"_Daem!_" Kilishandra's shout came clear striking out with one hand, and the invisible wave of force was heard, like the crack of thunder.

The woman was lifted into the air, flying over Link's head, landing hard on the stone slab in the center. And instantly was up, kicking her legs to spring back up onto her feet.

"What the hell is she?" Damien asked, turning with his sword ready.

"You two take the princess and go," Link said, "This one is beyond either of you."

"And leave you?" Lance said.

"Do as your father says," Kilishandra said, stepping up next to him, "The sooner you're all at a safe distance, the sooner I can use my real magic."

Two more appeared behind the masked woman. Lilith and Natalya both with their swords drawn came up behind her, raising the blades high.

There was a flash, and the circles of stone around them all came to life.

Green light rose high into the sky, circling around them all, and Link tried to shout to run, but couldn't get the sound out. His jaw refused to move, and he realized he couldn't move at all. An invisible force wrapped around his body, holding him perfectly still. He couldn't even breath.

_A holding spell?_ he thought.

The others around him were similarly held. Even Areil was frozen half-way back on her feet. Lance, Damien, the princess, all frozen. The twins were even frozen with their blades held over their heads for the strike they had intended.

"I think that's enough," a new voice said, and a small figure walked into the center of the group. It was the other cultist that had been watching the others work, along with the woman.

He appeared to be no more than a child, less than four feet in height, yet when he spoke, his voice commanded attention, an authority that no child could muster.

The small figure reached out, touching the masked woman, and the spell that held her released, allowing her to move again, and she sheathed her sword.

"Take the princess," the small figure said.

The woman approached Lance and effortlessly lifted Zelda from his shoulder and onto her own.

The small one gestured with one hand and said something in the language of magic, easily recognized by the unnatural echo even in a speaking volume. In an instant, a blue circle appeared in the air before him, widening, and something appeared within. Green plants and hanging vines, A portal to a jungle, Link thought.

Without waiting for and order, the woman stepped into the portal, taking the princess with her, and then the small figure snapped his fingers, the portal closing behind them.

"I must thank you all," the small figure said, turning back to them, "One constant in all the worlds I've seen is the predictability of you heroic types. If you'd been more cautious, I doubt I'd have executed my plan so flawlessly."

_Flawlessly?_ Link thought, _You mean you let your people die just to get us here? What are you planning?_

"And now," the figure went on, and snapped his fingers again, causing the lights of the magic circles holding them to flare brighter, "I've no further need of you, so to the ends of the earth you go. If you do survive and make it back to Hyrule, I expect it will be quite changed."

A third snap of the fingers, and Link felt something pulling at him. The world around him seemed to melt away. He'd experienced this feeling before. It was a travel spell, used for long distance teleportation. His lungs were screaming for air, and he saw the others around him. Kilishandra, Lance, Damien, Lilith, Natalya, and even Areil, all pulled away from Hyrule in an instant.

And then they landed, released from the holding spell, and Link felt cold earth against his face as he hit the ground, and heard the others crashing down around him.

He silently cursed. A wizard, of course it had been a wizard. He should have been more cautious. And now they had been sent gods only knew where, and that wizard was loose in Hyrule, and no one else in Hyrule even knew of him.


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4: Far From Home**

"No! No, dammit, no!" came the shout as Link stood up.

He was somewhat surprised. He'd expect that from Lance, but it was Damien that was cursing, and punching the ground in his fury. The fact that was his reaction in this pitch blackness. Wherever they were was dark as a deep cave, with only small shafts of starlight coming down around them, far too little to actually light the area.

The darkness didn't bother Link. On the left side of his face was a tattoo of unusual origin for this world, that had been given to him by Midna, the Twili Princess, decades ago. It allowed him to see as well in the dark as a Twili, natural creatures of darkness. While it was mostly hidden by his beard now, the magic of it had never faded.

The fact it was this dark gave him some idea of how far they must have traveled. It had been nearly noon when they had attacked the cultists, so now they had been sent far enough east that the sun had already set here, or had been sent so far west that they had crossed the ocean and landed on the continent of Mystara, but there was nowhere in Mystara with the kind of thick foliage he could see overhead.

"We were there! We were right there!" he continued.

"Calm down, kid," Link said, "You're just wasting energy."

There was a snap of fingers and a light came into existence. A small globe of light hovered near Kilishandra that lit the clearing. Link moved over to Kilishandra as she sat up, and offered her a hand. She took it and he pulled her up onto her feet.

"Is everyone okay?" Link asked, turning to the others as Lance and Areil rose to their feet, and the twins both sheathed their swords, looking around themselves.

"Nothing broken, I think," Areil said.

"Same," Lance said, "What was that?"

"A travel spell," Kilishandra said, "Long distance teleportation magic. Question is where we've landed."

They had landed in a small clearing, surrounded by dense vegetation and tall trees, growing close enough to shadow over the entire area, preventing even starlight from falling across them. Their landing had also upset the local wildlife, birds having taken off in protest, and one of the twins kicking aside an angry centipede trying to crawl over her boot to escape.

"So a short range, now a long range," Areil said, then noticing it for the first time crinkled her nose in discomfort, "Ugh, the air here is so muggy."

"Well, just don't hold it against us," Link said, "I did warn you about your safety."

"You did, now I'm in it with both feet," Areil said.

"They had us, though," Damien said, "Why not just kill us instead of just sending us away?"

"Maybe the wizard realized that in another few seconds I was going to be free," Kilishandra said, "Maybe he panicked."

"You were? I couldn't even breathe," Areil said.

"Neither here nor there now," Kilishandra said, "We need to figure out where we are."

It was humid, that was certain, Link thought as he looked around, noting the thick foliage and vines hanging around them, the trunks of the trees almost completely covered in green moss. "Humidity, jungle, even the ground under us is damp," he said, "My first guess would be Zitheria."

"Are you serious?" Lance asked, "That's so far..."

Lance had never been outside Hyrule. He knew the geography, though. Zitheria was a land that lay on the far side of the empire, south and east. Far enough south that it never snowed, the climate hot and muggy almost year round, and covered in dense jungles. It was a land so distant, it almost seemed like a legend in itself. But he'd heard stories of its natives as well.

"I'd rather have landed in the empire or Bahdi lands," Kilishandra said to Link, "If the Narak find us, we'll really be in it."

"I know," Link said, "But I don't know the stars around here well enough to pinpoint where we are exactly."

He reached to his belt, opening a small pouch and taking out his compass. "And that's wonderful," he said as he looked at it.

Kilishandra leaned closer, and he held it for her to see. The needle was not fixed on north, but instead was spinning wildly.

"The dead zone," Kilishandra said, "That does at least give us some idea."

"What's that?" Lance asked.

Link turned to him as he put the compass away. "The dead zone is a stretch of land in Zitheria that is about one hundred and fifty miles across east and west, and closer to two hundred north and south. There's something about the place that makes compasses not work, and it's full of deadly plants and animals, and about eight different Narak tribes, all of which will kill us if they find us."

"What'd we do to them?" Areil asked.

"We're not them, that's what," Link said, "Kili and I have been here before. The Narak don't have a larger civilization like other races because they can't even stand each other. Different tribes are openly hostile most days, or cautiously in a truce at most. They kill each other constantly and they hate outsiders even more."

"Don't forget they also practice ritual sacrifice and are cannibals one and all," Kilishandra added.

"I don't care about any of that," Damien said, getting to his feet, "What about the princess? Where did they take her?"

"Not a clue," Link said, "But the fact the whole thing was a trap for us makes me think they're not going to kill her."

Damien moved closer to Link, looking down at him from his substantially greater height. "It was your plan, this is your fault," he said, "How are we going to find her now?"

"I said they're not going to kill her," Link said, "We need to make sure we stay alive first."

Damien looked like he was about to retort, but stopped when Lance put a hand on his arm. "Calm down," Lance said, "You know he's right. We'll find her."

Damien sighed, nodding and backed a step away from Link.

"So what do we do now?" Natalya asked, "We're a long way from home."

"You were throwing magic around," Areil said to Kilishandra, "Can you teleport us all back?"

"No," Kilishandra said, "Travel spells are difficult, even with preparation and extra resources. They were never my forte, and if I try, we're just as likely to end up on the opposite side of the world, or inside a mountain, as Hyrule. And for clarity, by inside a mountain, I don't mean in a cave. I mean inside solid rock."

"So we're walking," Link said, "We not totally lost, though. Since we know we're in the dead zone, we just need to go northwest. How far, that's what I can't tell you."

"Won't be able to tell which way is north until the sun is up, though," Lance said, "And we don't have any food or camping supplies."

"So we're hunting for our meals," Link said.

A loud crack overhead caused the group to all look up, the boom of thunder echoing around them.

Link sighed, his shoulders sinking. "There's the other problem with Zitheria," he said, "This time of year, it's thunderstorms and rains constantly. Come on, let's find some shelter before we're all soaked."

The group followed him, and though he knew it was too far to work, Link reached to the earring in his ear, on the off chance he could get Zelda to hear something from him at all.

* * *

The masked wizard arrived back at his safe house, stepping from the portal and quickly shutting it behind himself before anyone could follow. His task finished, the followers he had taken with him had served their purpose, and there were plenty more where those came from. He also had no reason to fear they would talk, as they were kept in the dark to the plans going forward.

His chamber was easily the most comfortable in the complex, yet it was far from the lavish trappings he was used to. The floor and walls were rough-carved stone, having been tunneled out just months prior, and none of those among his flock were masons, lacking the knowledge and skill to even smooth it after the pickaxes were finished. So he covered them with thick carpets and hanging tapestries, yet he could still feel the sharp contours of the floor as he walked across them.

The room contained a large, four-post bed, probably the best comfort he had, but other than that, just a table that was littered with maps and a pile of what looked like broken glass. Next to that was a small bell, which he picked up and rang.

A few seconds later, a white-robed figure, wearing the same white mask as all the others appeared in the doorway of the room.

"Food," the wizard said.

With a bow, the figure departed to fulfill his demand.

As he sat the bell back on the table, the broken shards of glass began to glow. It seemed his otherworldly contact wanted a word.

"You've returned, Vaati," a disembodied voice said from the glass.

One of the other beings of this world that dared address him by name, Vaati thought as he pulled the mask from his face. Between his short stature and young-looking face, he could easily be mistaken for a child by the inhabitants of this world, yet he was old beyond their comprehension.

He had found ways to extend his life without risking the sanctity of his immortal soul, so far, but was nearing his limit. His body's life had effectively been stretched thin, and he would rapidly age once again. The mana crystals that sustained him had originally bought him decades more of life, then only a few years, and now the one he had just consumed would give him a few more weeks at most.

The light in the broken shards grew brighter, and a silhouette rose from them, taking the shape of a human face, though his features were masked by the darkness.

"Yes," Vaati said, "The first step is finished. The princess has been taken from Hyrule, and their precious heroes have also been moved out of the picture."

A grim chuckled came from the silhouette on the table. "Tell me, did Link and Kilishandra scream before you killed them?"

"They are of no concern at the moment," Vaati said.

The light flared, and the shape grew to nearly twice its size, the voice becoming near a shriek of rage. "You let them live?!"

"I see no point in killing potential future assets," Vaati said, "The princess did not have the Triforce as you had theorized. So we must follow the contingency. We will need Hyrule's heroes to play their part in setting up the next phase."

"Any knights of Hyrule could serve for that," the voice said, the silhouette shrinking back to its original size, "You don't know those two like I do. Kilishandra is the daughter of Ganondorf, the King of Darkness. And since his disappearance decades ago, she is the most powerful spellcaster in this world. You may think yourself mighty, but I do not believe you can match her directly.

"And as for Link, he is even more dangerous than she is. I have never met a man so relentless as he. And he has made a habit of doing the impossible. My greatest mistake was underestimating them, and I do not intend to do so again."

"They did not seem so impressive from where I was standing," Vaati said, "But I have no intention of letting my guard down. I don't have the luxury of relaxation now, not when my time is so short. But if the Triforce does not make itself known, all my work will be for naught, and it will be you to blame. I have yet to see real proof it exists in this reality."

"It exists," the voice said, "I held its light once myself, long ago, and I also personally felt its burn from its most recent wielders. What I know is they used it to defeat the demon, Shaklator, but lost it in the process. It did not return to the Sacred Realm, which means it will re-manifest among a new generation. And if the legend holds true, they will be divided, one will be separate from the others, as two will be destined to oppose the other. It's just a question of when they will appear, and for what reason.

"Ganondorf used the Triforce of Power millennia ago, and his first wish was to live forever. Just that one piece granted him eternal youth. So, we only need one of the three pieces to solve your problem. And once my problem is solved, I'll be able to aid you more directly."

Vaati curled his lip in distaste. "Yes. I've given the order to gather the required materials you said you need. Including the… unborn children. This is why I hate necromancy. So distasteful."

"Yes, yes, you hate getting blood on your hands," the voice said, "There was a time when I did as well. But to accomplish your goals, especially when the entire world is against you, you will have to get bloody. And you can't just accept it as something that must happen, you have to to want it. You have to love the blood."

"I'm glad I'm not a psychopath like you," Vaati said, "If you betray me, I will end you."

"You need me," the voice said, "Since you didn't want to do it yourself, you just get the ritual ready. After that, I'll deal with Link and Kilishandra. It will be… quite satisfying."

* * *

Queen Zelda rode at the front of the column of armed and armored men, the hooves of their horses like thunder across the plane as they rode in the same direction as Link and the others had traveled in. As they came upon the low clearing, she raised on hand high, and seeing her signal, the captain not far from her called for a full stop.

It took a moment to take in the carnage before her eyes. In the low clearing, there were at least two dozen bodies, some charred black from fire, and scorch marks on the grass around where they fell, and some small flames still visible. Other bodies were riddled with arrows, and there was one she could see with a huge red slash wound across his chest.

But what disturbed her were the circles of stones, and a large slab in the center with blood splashed across it.

"What the hell happened here?" she whispered, her breath hot on her face inside her helmet.

With one hand, she undid the chin-strap, then pulled the helmet off, resting it on her saddle-horn. "Captain," she said to the armored knight next to her, "Tell the men to spread out, look for survivors, and see if any of those bodies are our people."

The captain clapped his gauntlet against his chest, his armor rattling, and he turned to shout the order to the rest of the column.

Zelda waiting, watching the armored men disperse into the clearing, many dismounting to look closer at the bodies. Only her personal guard, the black clad ninja a few feet behind her, remained with Zelda. There were more, of course, out of sight, and already spreading out to search the perimeter for signs of any who tried to flee.

"Someone's coming," the ninja said, causing Zelda to look up and over her shoulder.

To their left, there was a small group, just four people, and one was walking toward them on foot. Zelda saw several more of the ninja appear behind the ground, as if rising from the ground itself. She was always amazed by how stealthy they could be, even wearing black in broad daylight. But for now, she made a small gesture with her hand, ordering them to wait. A moment later, they vanished from sight as quickly as they had appeared, the group in the distance unaware they had even been there.

The woman approaching her was a Gerudo, she surmised. That size and bright red hair made it rather easy.

"Vasaaq, vai," the Gerudo said, raising a hand in greeting as she came closer, then paused, running her tongue over her lips, clearly in deep thought, then finally said, "You are… leader? You shine brighter."

Well, she wasn't wrong, Zelda thought, looking down at her armor. It was the same design as the knights wore. Hardened steel shaped to an image of crossed wings across her chest. Hers, however, was dyed golden on the wings, and also had more ornate shoulders, shaped like wings with feathers pointed downward, which were also dyed gold. Her helmet similarly sported golden wings while the knights' were all the normal gray of steel. It was meant to help her men identify her, so if they were caught in battle they knew where she was. The royal smith, Balthazar, had said he would not have dyed the metal as such if it had sacrificed any of the protective value. As it was, her armor, along with other sets Balthazar had made personally, were actually quite a bit higher quality than the average knight's, not out of privilege, but because Balthazar was just one man, talented as he was, and he couldn't outfit an entire army himself.

"I am the queen of Hyrule," Zelda said, and decided questions of why Gerudo had suddenly appeared could wait, "Did you see what happened here?"

"Sorry, your language," the woman said, "I try. Your people attack the white masks, try to get tribe family out. My tribe help, shoot many. Then great light, and your people, gone."

She held her hands to her sides, shrugging. She wasn't sure how to say it, it seemed.

But what she said was enough. "Magic," Zelda said, turning back to the sight before her, "So we've got a wizard of some sort here and he whisked them away."

"My chief, Surella, she coming to your city," the Gerudo said, and then struggled with the next word, "Dip… Dipper… Dip-lo-mat-ic visit."

"How many of you are there?" Zelda asked.

"Sixteen," the Gerudo said. She'd evidently had that one grilled into her.

"Well, sixteen people aren't going to overthrow the city," Zelda said, "Go back to your chief, tell her I will meet her as soon as I am able. But I must search for my people now. When you come to the city, make sure all your people who were here come as well. I'll have questions for them."

"I understand," the Gerudo said, nodding, "She will. Sav'orq, bright one."

"Going to be one of those days," Zelda muttered as she watched the Gerudo walk away toward the others, then looked over her shoulder, "Let's have a few follow them to make sure they are telling the truth. But they're to stay out of sight."

The ninja nodded, and lifted his left hand hand, making several hand-signals, ending with pointing toward the Gerudo as they mounted their horses. Though there was no visible reaction to his gestures, Zelda knew the other ninja nearby would see and understand. If something was off, she'd know before the day was over.

She turned back to the clearing as one of the knights rode her direction.

"Anything?" she asked.

He saluted as he pulled his horse to a stop. "No, your majesty," he said, "No sign of the princess, or any of our people. But we find no source for the fire, either."

"Likely magic, then," Zelda said, "Probably Kilishandra, or the wizard that apparently sent them away. Any survivors with the masks?"

"Not yet," the knight said, "We're still checking the bodies, though. Looks like there's about thirty of them."

"Thirty people wouldn't stop Link and Kilishandra," Zelda said, looking down at the clearing again, eyes following the stone circles, "What happened to..."

She paused as a sound in her ear interrupted her train of thought. The earring, she realized. It wasn't the normal sound when someone tried to contact her with it, though.

"Link?" she asked, lifting one hand to her ear to block outside sound.

The sound that came through would have made nails on a chalkboard sound pleasant in comparison, and she visibly flinched. But then there was a voice. It was Link, but he sounded distant, and she could barely hear what he said over the sound.

"...know if… hear this… travel… princess is alive…"

"She's alive," Zelda said, feeling an enormous weight lift off her chest

"...get back as… long way… wizard..."

The screeching sound was getting worse the longer it went on, and his voice faded into it, leaving her unable to make out anything else he was saying.

Then it faded as well as the contact was lost. "Sounds like he was out of range," she said to herself, "Surprising it worked at all. But my daughter's alive. That's what matters."

She looked down at the clearing again. It looked like the knights had found at least a few of the mask wearers who were simply unconscious. So there would be questioning, and hopefully more learned of this new enemy.

"You've never let me down before, Link," Zelda said, more like a prayer, "Bring my daughter back. Please."

* * *

At that moment, that daughter was in truly grave danger as her captor dropped her to the ground. The young Princess Zelda's head was still spinning, but it felt like the sedative was finally starting to pass, and she was able to push herself up from the cold, damp earth as her captor struck a flint with a knife, causing a torch to blaze to life, which she stuck down in the soft earth, lighting the small clearing.

And her captor stepped forward and struck the princess's face with a kick that caused her to cry out and roll onto her back.

"On your feet, whore," the masked woman said, the princess's shoulders and jerking her upright with absurd strength that lifted the girl with her feet dangling in the air before dropping her again.

Zelda staggered, but managed to stay upright. As the masked woman stepped forward, the princess used her last desperate option, pulling the hidden knife from her sleeve and pushed into her captor. The blade hit flesh, driving it deep into her chest, but she instantly knew something was wrong when she didn't feel it scraping bone.

She didn't stay upright long, her captor striking her in the jaw with the flat of one hand, knocking her to the ground again. Zelda looked up to see the woman take the hilt of the dagger in one hand, slowing pulling it from her own chest. Even in the dim light, she could see that the blade was still clean, without a trace of blood.

"So, enlighten me," the woman said, "After killing me, what were you planning on doing next?"

"What are you?" Zelda asked.

With a flick of her wrist, the woman tossed the knife into the dirt, the point sticking easily in the mud. Thunder boomed overhead, signaling the coming storm only minutes away. Then the masked woman stepped over the princess and squatted down with surprising dexterity, leaning forward on her feet, until her masked face was only inches from Zelda's.

Then she took off the mask, and Zelda gasped in shock. The face under that mask was the same one she saw every time she looked in the mirror.

"I'm you, but better," the doppelganger said, "I've had to study you, watch you for years, to learn everything about you. After all, if anyone is to believe I am you, I have to fool them. Even dear mother."

"You intend to replace me?" Zelda asked.

"Your heroes will come, and they will save a Princess Zelda," was the reply, "It just won't be you. And once I'm back in Hyrule, I'll gladly take that crown you are so afraid of. The slow poison I'll slip into mother's meals will ensure by this time next year, I'll be queen after she dies from illness."

"You'll be caught," Zelda said, desperately looking for any possible escape, "You won't get away with it."

"It will take effort, I'll admit that," she said, "After all, I hate you."

She grabbed Zelda's blouse, stopping her effort to crawl away.

"You are a coward, afraid of your heritage and your destiny," the woman said, her voice like a low growl, "You fear your responsibilities because you're terrified of having to make a real decision. Of men dying because of a choice you made. At least I agree that you should not be queen.

"So you should be thanking me, really. I'll take that responsibility for you. And once the other tasks are dealt with, my master will depart this world, and I will reign as queen of Hyrule, forever. The hardest part will be pretending to be you for that first year. After that, well, they'll just see a princess who became a proper queen."

"Your master… the wizard..." Zelda said, realizing it must be that smaller man that had been with her, "What is he after?"

"He told me not to tell you, but you'll be dead in a few minutes anyway," the woman said, "He wants the Triforce. Said it can cure his malediction and make him immortal. He needed to see you and see if you had it, but you don't. Meaning your life is now useless. But..."

She grabbed Zelda's shoulder and forcefully turned her over onto her stomach.

"Wouldn't do to have the heroes find the princess in a whole new set of clothing," she said, and started undoing the laces on the back of Zelda's dress, "Also can't get too much blood on this in the process."

Zelda pushed up, trying to force herself free, but the woman grabbed her head and slammed it down against the earth forcefully. "The more you struggle, the more bones I break," the woman hissed at her.

Zelda was no match for her strength, that much was obvious. Never in her life had she felt more helpless than now, as the woman pulled open her blouse, forcing it over her shoulders and dragging the entire gown downward, over her hips and off her. In the brief moment of freedom, Zelda tried to crawl away, only for the woman to plant a foot hard into her back, knocking the wind from her lungs. Then the woman leaned down again, going to work on the laces of Zelda's corset.

As she gasped for air, Zelda could feel the tears on her face, gritting her teeth as she sobbed quietly, unable to do anything to fight back or resist as the woman pulled the corset free, exposing her flesh to the cool night air.

But she wasn't done, grabbing Zelda's ankle and pulling her shoes free, followed by her garters and underclothes, before finally picking up the armful of clothing from the ground and stepped away from Zelda's naked body, and laid her prizes across a fallen log nearby.

"Now," the woman said as she leaned down, picking up the knife from the ground, "I can at least make this quick if you don't struggle."

Zelda reached forward, grabbing for anything she could to pull herself away, only to find her hand on a large boot. She looked up. Standing over her was a man in a dark cloak, his form almost completely concealed in the darkness, the flickering light of the torch his square jaw under the shadow of the hood of his cloak.

"This doesn't concern you, stranger," the woman said, "Turn around and walk away unless you want me to kill you too."

What little could be seen of the man's face turned into a smirk.

"I want you to try," he said, his voice low, barely above a growl.

The woman started to move forward, then stopped as another voice was heard nearby. "Six! That's enough! You've taken too long, and this one is far beyond you."

"He's just a fool with bad timing," the woman named Six said, but she did take a step back from the newcomer, toward the pile of stolen clothing.

"If you die here, we will just follow our next contingency, Six," the voice said, "The princess will have to be dealt with later."

Six glared at the man, then dropped the knife, and with one quick motion, scooped up the pile of clothing under one arm and produced a small blue crystal from her belt, the same kind as she had used in the castle. She smashed it in her fingers, and with a flash of light, was gone.

The man watched where she had been for a moment before saying, "Now that was a voice I have not heard in a long time."

He then looked down at Zelda, where she lay, still with one hand on his boot. She looked up at him, fearful and unsure, and in the light of the single torch, he could see the streaks of her makeup down her cheeks from her tears.

With a grunt of disdain, he pulled his foot away from her hand and turned, walking away.

"Wait!" Zelda said, pushing herself up, "Please! I don't even know where I am, and that woman brought me here against my will!"

The man stopped, but only turned his head, the hood of his cloak hiding most of his face as he looked over his shoulder at her. "I fail to see how that's my problem," he said.

"Please, at least tell me how to get back to Hyrule's capital city," Zelda said.

"Hyrule?" the man turned at that, facing her. This caused her to realize, as if for the first time, she was sitting on her knees completely nude, and felt her face grow hot as she lifted her arms to cover her breasts as best she could. "You're about a two month journey from Hyrule," the man said, "Longer than that on foot, in fact. You're in Zitheria, girl."

"Zitheria..." she whispered, "How did they bring me here?"

She was startled as a cold raindrop hit her shoulder, and more were rapidly following.

"The how and why are both the least of your worries," the man said, "If you don't find somewhere dry to keep warm, you won't last the night. And even if you do survive the night, there will be plenty of other things around here ready to finish the job, from the animals to the locals."

Zelda looked up at him. "But, you know your way around here," she said, her voice shaking as she raised it to be heard over the growing rain, "Please, if you can help me get back to Hyrule, my mother will see you rewarded."

"I live out here precisely because I want nothing to do with people like you anymore," the man said, "I'm sick of kings and queens, of their wars and their propaganda, and of their helpless princesses in need of rescue under the slightest hint of danger. Besides, what reward could I possibly receive? I've no desire for your lands or civilization. Money? Look around you. What the hell would I spend it on? You can give me nothing I want, girl."

Zelda hung her head. The rain was rapidly growing stronger, and she could feel the cold drops hitting her bare skin.

"You're right," she said, barely audible over the rain, her own tears masked by the water on her face, "I can't give you anything like then. Then, would you want… me?"

"Now you're going too far," the man said, and stepped toward her lowering himself to one knee, and he lifted her chin with one finger, to look her in the eye.

His dark skin looked nearly coal-black in the night, with a clean-shaven face and head, a wide jaw and sharp nose. But his dark eyes seemed to pierce her like knives, an icy stare that seemed to cut through her very soul.

"Ask yourself something right now," he said, "What do you think is worth living for?"

"My mother wants me to be the queen," Zelda said, "The people of the nation will depend on me..."

"No," the man said, cutting her off, "What do _you_ think is worth living for? Look deep, past what you've been told, past what others think. Look down, into the darkest, blackest pits of your soul."

She didn't know how to do what he was asking. But he pulled his hand away from her face and stood up.

"Out here, there is nothing left for you but to live or to die," he said, "Stand up. Face the world. Struggle. Survive. Then you will know."

Before she could respond, the man pulled his cloak from his shoulder, dropping it over her. She almost instantly felt the warmth of his body within it. It was good leather, the inside dry in spite of the rain, and the inner lining was a soft, warm fur. Reflexively, she pulled it tighter around herself, trying to hold on to as much of the warmth as she could.

"That's all the help you'll get from me," the man said as he turned and started walking away, "Find someplace dry, girl. Wait out the rain. From there you'll figure out what you must do. Because if you don't, you'll die."

Zelda stood up, adjusting the cloak on her shoulders and pulling the hood up before pulling it around herself. The man vanished into the trees. He really was just leaving her there, and she felt if she followed him, he probably would make her regret it.

She was completely lost, and was on her own. What was she supposed to do now? Find someplace dry, he'd said. Well, that'd be a start. Thunder boomed overhead, as if to accentuate the point.

She turned, ready to start, and then remembered, moving over to where the woman, Six, had disappeared. There was her knife, where the woman had dropped it. Fortunately, among the other acts of stripping her, she'd left the sheath strapped to her left forearm. It was important to carry a means of self-defense, as a last minute desperation if nothing else. That was a lesson her mother and bodyguards had all drilled into her since she was young. She was no fighter, but having a weapon and not needing it was better than the opposite. She now returned the knife to the sheathe.

The torch that Six had lit. It was hissing in the rain, but somehow holding on. The oil-soaked cloth wrapped around the wood was burning effectively, hissing as water struck it and turning the drops to steam. Zelda reached down, picking up the torch, and turned her eyes to her surrounding.

Being out in the dark was probably just as bad as the rain, she thought. With no idea where to start looking, she picked a direction and started walking, and immediately cursed the softness of her feet, walking barefoot on the muddy ground full of sticks and pebbles.

She kept looking about, searching for anything that might serve. A cave, or even an overhang that she could get underneath and out of the rain. It wasn't far before she found just what she sought. Low to the ground, a tunnel she had to kneel down to look into. She held the torch under, seeing how deep it went. Only about four feet, she guessed, and she could see the back of the tunnel from the entrance. Fortunately, it was empty, the resident who had dug it was not present.

Zelda crawled inside, scraping her knees on the hard, dry ground inside in the process, but thanked her luck it was dry. Once inside, she turned, planting the end of the torch in the dirt between herself and the entrance. Hopefully that would deter any animals from trying to enter behind her.

She crawled a bit further in, then turned around, putting her back to the wall so she could face the entrance, and pulled her knees up to her chest before pulling the cloak up tightly around herself. She felt something hard hit her knee as she did so, pausing and reaching to it. There was a pocket inside the cloak, and within was a small metal box.

She opened the latch, looking at the contents within. She found a piece of flint, used with a metal blade to create sparks, and a generous helping of wood shavings carefully packed to avoid spilling. It was a fire kit.

There was no way the man hadn't realized it was in the pocket. He'd given her more than just the cloak. It was of no use now, but if she could find something to eat, at least she might be able to cook it.

Was that it then? Her only objective? Wait until the rain was out, then don't starve?

She pulled her arms around her legs, resting her head forward on her knees. He'd said it would be over two months to get back to Hyrule from here. She couldn't make that kind of journey alone. She knew a few basic things about survival, but never thought she'd actually have to use them, so they were faint in her memory, only able to recall bits and pieces.

She really was alone and helpless. So she did the only thing she could do at that moment. She cried, the tears running down her cheeks as she sobbed silently, wishing that she was about to wake up and find this had all been a bad dream.

* * *

Link was watching out into the jungle outside, his magicked eyes seeing much further in the dark than anyone else, Kilishandra standing just a few paces behind him, and the others further back in the cave they had found. It looked like a natural cave, but a collapse had blocked wherever it had once led to, giving it only a small chamber about ten feet across. But it was dry, and no one was going to sneak up out of the darkness, so they'd chosen it to wait out the night.

"So what do you think?" Kilishandra asked Link.

"I don't know if the queen heard me," Link said, "I think we're going to have to beeline it back to Hyrule, and to hell with anything that gets in our way."

"These kids are going to slow us down," Kilishandra said, "We're not going to make that trip in our usual time."

"We don't have Ebony with us either," Link said.

With that horse carrying both of them, they could easily cover in three days the amount of distance it would take most a week. Hyrule was a long way off, but just the two of them plus Ebony could make the trip in two weeks.

"I can't shake the feeling this is what he wanted, though," Kilishandra said, "The wizard. He had this set up, and while I might have been able to break free with a bit more time, a travel spell is more difficult to perform than destruction spells. Only reason he'd do that is he wanted us alive and out here."

"Yeah, I'm thinking the same thing," Link said, "It was a trap, and I'm pretty sure you and I are exactly the people he wanted to walk into it."

"You think he knows who I am?" Kilishandra asked.

"It's not exactly a secret," Link said, "After all, if you believe the stories, I'm the hero who has saved the world from destruction at least half a dozen times, and you are my partner, the deadliest sorceress alive."

"We both know those legends are full of crap, though," Kilishandra said, "I'd pay money to watch the fight you supposedly had with Ganondorf before you met me. The story says the ground shook with the force of your blows, and you carved an extra sixty miles of the Great Ravine in southern Hyrule in the process."

Link smiled, shaking his head. "And it gets bigger every time it's retold," he said, turning his head at the sound of footsteps approaching them. It was Lance and the elf twins, Lilith and Natalya. "You three ought to be getting rest while you can. We're going to have to move as soon as the sun is up."

"I can't sleep now," Lance said, "It wasn't even noon when we were sent here."

"Rest doesn't always mean sleep," Link said.

"We were thinking the two of us should go scout around a bit," one of the twins said, though Link couldn't say which one she was, "Make sure we're not too close to anything unpleasant."

"No," Link said, "You two have never been here before. No matter how much you think you know, Zitheria is worse. Just stay here, wait for the sun to come up, then we can worry about finding some drinking water and something to eat. Then we start marching hard to the northwest until we're out of here."

"But..." one of the twins started.

"Just go sit down," Lance said, "My father's not a wall you can talk past."

Link chuckled. "So you did learn that sometime," he said.

"Look," Lance said as the twins walked back into the cave, "I just wanted to ask. Truth, no bullshit. Do you really think the princess is alive?"

"I think she is," Link said, turning more to face him, "I don't know it, but I've got a feeling. The fact they carried her out, and then sent us here instead of trying to kill us, I'm pretty sure they want us all alive for some reason."

"Don't worry, son," Kilishandra said, "If anyone is likely to be sacked for this, it'll be us, not you."

"That's not what I'm worried about," Lance said, "I just… Was it really a good idea to run in like we did?"

Link sighed. "The the information we had, and the look that they were about to kill her in some ritual sacrifice, yes," he said, "If we'd known more, yes, I'd have held back and come up with something else. Just knowing about that wizard, let alone that super-strong freak, would have been enough. But with the limited time and info we'd had, yes, I'd make the same decision again."

"Look, most of the stories about your father and I are greatly exaggerated," Kilishandra said, "But most of them do also have a seed of truth. We're used to fighting our way out of bad situations, and this isn't even the worst situation we've been in."

"Sometimes you don't have time to think about it or even come up with a plan," Link said, "If you hesitate, people die. And sometimes, even if you do everything right, people still die. It's a terrible truth, the harsh arithmetic of war. Sometimes you have to let a hundred people die here so that you can save a thousand over there. And you have to be strong enough to endure it."

"Is that how you do it?" Lance asked, "Kill so easily, that is? I've never killed someone before, but when you threw that fire, and then you cut down that one in our way like he was nothing..."

"How did you feel?" Link asked.

"To be honest, it turned my stomach," Lance said.

Link smiled. "Then you're on the right path," he said, "Son, I've lost count of how many people I've killed in my life. Haven't forgotten the feeling of my first one, though. It made me sick. I was throwing up, having nightmares for weeks of those cold, staring eyes, accusing me."

He paused, turning away to look back out of the cave. "It does get easier, as the bodies pile up. You become hardened to it, same as the calluses on your hands toughen as you work with your sword or any other tool. But what never leaves you is the faces. Every face, every person you kill, will burn into your memory. And every time you close your eyes, you'll see them. Staring at you, accusing you for what you've done. And the unfortunate truth is that what makes it easier is as the number grows, they lose power. Lose distinction. Go far enough, and all you see is a dark pit, filled with eyes staring back at you.

"You stand at the edge of that abyss, staring into it, and it stares back."

Link turned around, to look Lance straight in the eye. "That's why it's important to remember that feeling, that turning of your stomach, because that's what will keep you from taking the step and falling in. People who do, they no longer care. Life ceases to have value to them. You have to be strong enough to hold on to the fact that killing is wrong, no matter how many you have killed. But also strong enough to cast more into that pit if you have to. Because those people, the ones who don't care, they won't stop."

"So how big is that pit for you?" Lance asked.

"I'd say about the size of Lake Hylia," Link said, then sighed, looking back out of the cave, "I have killed in anger before. Someone that I thought needed killing, because they were such villains. And almost every one of them, I regret doing so. Find out about a lot of them afterward, that they were decent people, just bad luck had put us on opposite sides."

"So why not stop then?" Lance asked, "You could retire, you know."

"Tried that," Link said, "Back when your mother was pregnant with you. We hung it up, were going to live in Ordon the rest of our lives. And for a while, it was good. We were happy. Then, when you were just a year old, a traveler came into Ordon. He was beat up, bloody, and had been stabbed several times. He and his family had been attacked on the road. A group of bandits that had made camp in the forest north of us.

"Your mother and I, along with Silviana, went to their camp. Found them there. Had a big pile of stolen goods, along with the bodies of the traveler's wife and two daughters. The children looked like the older was ten, younger one couldn't have been more than six or seven. All three of them had their throats cut but that was fresh, they weren't killed before the bandits had beaten and raped them. All three of them.

"We killed every man in that camp. Would have left the bodies for the animals if they weren't likely diseased as well, so we burned them. But that's what I mean about men who just don't care about life. They're nothing but animals themselves. And after that, I felt the call again. So we made arrangements for you to be cared for by your grandmother, Uli, while we were gone, and we went back to the road."

"I didn't know anything about that," Lance said.

"That's because we didn't tell anyone in Ordon how close bandits had been to the village," Kilishandra said, "The traveler also died of his injuries before we returned."

"What do you mean by 'you felt the call again?'" Lance asked, "What's that mean?"

"It's what keeps me from sitting still too long," Link said, "I've tried to fight it. Especially when I was younger. But it's in my blood. I can't stand by while innocent people are suffering. For all the terrible things I feel for things I've done, it's far worse to watch someone else die while doing nothing about it. Not everyone can be strong enough to protect themselves from the real evil in the world. I'll be strong so they don't have to be."

"Why didn't you ever tell me any of this when I was younger?" Lance asked.

"Because kids easily get the wrong idea about their parents," Kilishandra said, "What your father just said might make it sound like he's an untouchable, unwavering hero. But I'm beside him through it all. He's still human. He makes mistakes. And he has moments of doubt and weakness. One person, though they might try, can't carry the weight of the world alone. That's why I'm there. To help support that weight, and to catch him when he falls.

"Son, you being a knight makes us both so proud. You've chosen to spend your life protecting others, just as we have. But we didn't want you to try to be your father. In fact, if you never have to go down the paths your father and I have, we'd prefer it."

"And you're also smart enough to not believe all the stories about us," Link said, "So I think in the long run, with experience behind you, you'll be fine."

Lance sighed. "I don't know. I've always wondered if I could live up to the name you've made, now I'm pretty sure I can't."

"Being a hero is not something everyone can do, and it's not something that happens overnight, either," Kilishandra said, "But there's more ways to be a hero than saving the world from inexplicable evil. Sometimes just saving one person is enough. Then you'll save another, and another. Before you know it, you'll have saved a city, and it just keeps going from there."

"But the fact is you can't do any of it without real strength," Link said, "I think that's what you're missing. Real strength isn't about how hard you can strike, or how destructive your magic becomes. It's about standing tall when everyone else is running. It's about staying on your feet, no matter how many hits you take. And it's about picking yourself back up, no matter how many times you are knocked down.

"And real strength is impossible to have without a real reason to fight. For all I've just said, helping strangers would not be enough to keep me going indefinitely. I have to know there is something real, something precious to me, that is worth fighting for among all that."

"And what is that?" Lance asked.

Link smiled at him. "It's my family. You, your sister, your mother, and everyone in Ordon. I would die before letting something happen to any of you. And I would most certainly kill before that. You are the source of my strength, son, and where I turn when I have those moments of doubt."

"And it's the same for me," Kilishandra said, reaching out with one arm and putting it around Lance's shoulders, "You know, I actually hated my magic for most of my life. If I could go through my life without using it ever again, I would. But to protect your father, you, or your sister, I would not hesitate to unleash a storm that razes an entire city if I had to."

"I would protect my family," Lance said, "But even then, going that far..."

"Don't try to understand it immediately," Link said, "Often you don't realize what would be your strength like that until you see a blade pointed at them, or worse. Until you really feel it, until you understand the feeling, you won't understand the idea. Just think about it for a while. When the time is right, you'll understand."

"You're still young," Kilishandra said, "You've got plenty of time."

"Yeah," Lance said, "Most important thing to me right now, though, is to find the princess. We have to take her home."

"I agree," Link said, "But first we have to look after ourselves. We won't be any good to her if we're starving and sleep-deprived."

"You're right," Lance said, "I should go rest while I can."

"Do that, and we'll let you take watch in a couple hours," Kilishandra said.

Lance nodded as he turned to walk back into the cave with the others.

"I think he'll be fine," Kilishandra said, moving closer to Link and speaking quietly so it was private, "He just has growing yet to do."

"Honestly, he's never the one I was worried about," Link said, "He's smart enough to not listen to the ridiculous versions of the stories about us. Ana, on the other hand, she actually believes that crap."

Kilishandra sighed. "Yes, her hero-worship is a bit out of control," she said, "I'm not sure how to reign that in."

"Probably have to take her along, let her see us in action, as just humans," Link said, "But right now I'm more worried about that wizard and what he's going to try in Hyrule while we're gone."

"There's nothing to be done about it now," Kilishandra said, "We just have to stay together and make sure we all get through."

She leaned close to Link, putting one arm around his shoulders and leaning her head down against his. She felt him put his arm around her hips, holding her close. Even before the children, they had been the source of each other's strength, and stood together even before they were in an active relationship.

There was a time even before that when Kilishandra found in him the source of her strength, when he had only eyes for another. Midna, the princess of the Twili, had been Link's love back then, but circumstances had forced them apart. She had thought about trying to move in and fill that void, but back then Link would have likely reacted badly to her trying to replace Midna.

It had been five years after that when they first spent that night in that cheap inn on the side of a road. Even before Link and Midna had been forced apart, he had seen Kilishandra at her weakest. She was very claustrophobic, a remnant of a very bad childhood memory, locked in the cellar as she listened to her mother scream in agony for hours as she was tortured by a villainous man. When she was forced into dark, confined spaces, the memory resurfaced, and was so powerful that her years of combat experience and powerful magic all vanished, and she was that frightened little girl again.

In a dark cave, she and Link had been separated from the rest of their party, and to progress they had been forced to crawl through an extremely small passage, to the point Kilishandra had felt the walls so tight she could not take full breaths. She had broken down, and it had taken Link's hand on hers to keep her moving, and once they were out, they had sat there for some time, his arms around her as she cried, unable to even stand.

Once it had passed and she composed herself, they had continued on to meet up with the others. But Link never mentioned that event, and he never pressed her about it. But in that moment, he had been exactly what she needed. The comforting, warm arms of another, patient and understanding until she recovered herself.

And there were similar moments for him. About twenty-five years ago, they had dealt with a real monster. A mutant Twili named Cain whose power to this day still wasn't completely understood, and all the better that he was dead. But he had, at one point, managed to invade Link's very dreams, and there in a nightmare, made Link endure one of the more horrific experiences Kilishandra had ever heard of, and it gave her chills when he described it to her years later. And it all tied back to Midna, another book that was long since closed.

But Link had nightmares of that experience for years, waking him up in a cold sweat, and leaving him shivering for hours afterward. And it had been Kilishandra's turn to be the understanding and patient one, holding him close and waiting for him to find himself again. And that night of understanding had also led to their first night together. A night of passion and exertion that left them both feeling much better the following morning.

If they told the story to others, it might seem as if their entire relationship was built on sex. But the sex was ultimately just a footnote to what had actually brought it about. Their relationship was built on trust. Each of them had seen the other at their weakest and most vulnerable, and each of them understood and embraced this.

And that trust had built more as time went on. Even as they stood there silently, watching the rain, holding each other like this simply felt right to them both. No more words were needed.

They were going to survive this. And when they got back to Hyrule, if that wizard had hurt anyone else, they'd tear the bastard to pieces.


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5: Alone**

**About 10 years ago...**

The garden in the castle courtyard was a bright green paradise, tended dutifully by the castle staff. The princess loved to walk its paths in Spring, when all the plants were in bloom. The smell of the flowers was almost intoxicating. When they were younger, she and her brother often played hide and seek here with Damien, the Gerudo boy who lived in the castle with them.

The son of the Sage of Light, that was a relation the princess had given no thought to when they were younger. Damien had always been there, as far back as she could remember, but as she grew older, she felt so much sympathy for him. His mother was a Sage, whose duties meant she was rarely there. There was never a doubt that who she was when she did appear, however. She was a slender woman, with blonde hair so bright it almost seemed to glow, and always wore a floor-length deep purple robe and carried a staff of pure silver with her. Quite heavy, the princess imagined, yet the Sage seemed to handle it as if it were weightless.

And when she was at the castle, it almost inevitably was to see the Queen, not just to visit her son. And as for his father, she knew he was dead, but no one would give her a straight answer if she asked who he actually was.

So the princess looked at Damien and saw someone who was all alone, regardless of the near royal comforts of life he had. As they grew older, she always managed to find time with him as their activities shifted from the childhood adventures in the gardens to more sedate pastimes. Some evenings they'd just spend hours playing chess in her quarters, while others they'd talk about whatever festival was about to happen, or just other meaningless things.

And then there was the effect that had on him.

Finally came the day he told her he was going to be a knight. They were sitting beneath the peach tree in the garden, its fruits nearly ripe enough to pick, and she had been reading her history lesson of the Unification War, in which Hyrule grew from a small nation of just the Hylians to also include the Gorons and Zora among its people.

She had asked him what made him want to a knight, and he had taken her hand in his. Her hand nearly vanished in his, nearly three times the size of hers as he gave it just a gentle squeeze.

"Because I'm going to protect you, no matter what."

Teenagers not knowing what love was, but those words were a promise Damien never forgot, nor did he forget their first kiss that followed them.

* * *

**Present Day...**

Waiting for the storm to slow and the sun to rise felt like an eternity. In that dark cave, the group sat in silence. The dark elf girls evidently managed to make themselves sleep, leaning against the wall across from him, while Lance stood near the cave entrance, seemingly absorbed in thought.

Damien was frustrated, not able to take his thoughts from the princess. He'd known her ever since they were young. They'd play together in the castle garden, playing tag among the hedges, hiding among the statues and even concocted imaginary adventures they'd go on together.

He'd even been schooled with her, the same instructor taught him as the royal twins on everything from history to mathematics. And as they'd grown older, riding lessons and other subjects.

He probably knew her better than her own mother did.

It wasn't even like they had to try to find time together. And they'd been teenagers, barely more than children, when they'd shared that moment under the peach tree in the garden. He had promised he would protect her, no matter what, once he was a knight.

But even as he stewed in his thoughts about her, he realized that one other person in the cave seemed very interested in him. Areil, the Gerudo woman, seated a few feet away, had not taken her eyes from him for some time.

"Do you want something?" Damien asked, looking toward her.

She said something, but in the same language she'd used bits of before, when speaking with Link at their first meeting.

"Sorry, I don't understand your tongue," he said.

"Sa'oten, voe," Areil said, "I was speaking Gerudo. Do you know nothing of your own people?"

"I was raised by Hylians," he replied, "Everything I know of the Gerudo is second-hand at best."

"What happened to your mother that she couldn't teach you?" Areil asked.

"My mother is not Gerudo," Damien said.

"That's… impossible..." Areil said, pausing for a moment, then turned more fully toward him, "That would mean your father..."

"Only one male Gerudo is born each generation," Damien said, "I know that much."

"Who was your father then?" Areil asked.

Damien shrugged. "A myth. Never met the man, and my mother said he died a long time ago."

"There hasn't been a male born among the tribes for the past four thousand years," Areil said, turning away from him, "To think that was because they may have been being born elsewhere..."

"How does an all female race survive, anyway?" Damien asked, "You still require men, don't you?"

"We take husbands from other human races, including Hylians," Areil said, "Usually by kidnapping. Though most, once they understand the situation they are in, stay of their own free will. But all children born of a Gerudo will always be Gerudo."

"I was told the Gerudo were extinct as a species," Damien said, "History lessons I was taught."

"Well, I was taught that's what we wanted the world to think," Areil said, "Seems the ancient Gerudo were rather ashamed of the fact the legendary King of Darkness was born of our people, so hid away from the world. The tribes stayed out of sight and out of mind, at least until recently. That's what the larger group I was with were on our way to the capital about. Our chosen ambassador was to meet with the queen and discuss the possibility of our joining the larger world as a vassal of Hyrule."

"Knowing the queen, the first demand she'd set would be no more kidnappings," Damien said.

"That is part of the idea," Areil said, "It will be a different matter when a Gerudo woman can simply go into Hyrule and find herself a husband. Not to mention to have one all her own."

"What's that mean?"

"Well, with the kidnappings, we had to keep them few enough in number that the disappearances didn't draw too much attention," Areil said, "As a result, pretty much all those men have multiple wives out of the sake of necessity." She paused, and added with a smile, "Including my mother, my father has seven wives."

"That poor man," Damien said.

Areil grinning. "Well, he was allowed as many as he thought he could handle, so it's his own fault." She paused to chuckled, and added, "I have memories, when I was young and supposed to be asleep, seeing my father in our tent at night, haggardly crawling from one bed to the next."

"Does this have a point?" Damien asked.

Areil shrugged. "Just passing time," she said, "If you don't know about all this, I assume you also don't know what becomes of actual Gerudo men?"

"I don't care," Damien said, leaning his head back against the cave wall and closing his eyes, "Keep your culture and your legends. All that matters to me right now is Princess Zelda. Getting her back safe is all I care about."

Areil shook her head and looked away from him. "So be it. But how do you intend to find her?"

Damien clenched his fist at that. He had nothing. Link was right, and they just had to worry about themselves first. But he had to find her. Somehow, he would keep his promise.

"Just leave me alone," Damien said to Areil.

"Fine," Areil said, "I guess I shouldn't be surprised."

* * *

In the southern reaches of the Riastad Empire lay the city of Banathor. A modest city, with a population of about six thousand, it lay well within imperial borders, the only threats to the city typically being internal. But even those threats were above the pay grade of the man sitting next to the door of a tavern called the Sword and Star.

It was a busy room, as it typically was this time of year. The farmers came into town more frequently, all their crops planted and waiting until harvest time, they had the time to spare. As a result, most of the bars in town saw a lot more business, and a lot more trouble.

Just that kind of trouble was starting at that moment, many eyes in the bar turning to the table where one of the waitresses cried out in shock and alarm. As soon as she had set the drinks for the three men seated there down, one of them had grabbed her arm, pulling her toward himself.

He said something that the man at the door couldn't hear, but that man was already on his feet and walking toward the table. The waitress was pulling against the other man's grip, but couldn't slip out of his grip. She cried out again as the man pulled her forcefully into a sitting position on his lap, using his free arm to wrap around her waist and hold her there.

Several other patrons started to rise from their seats to intervene, but sat back as the man from the door walked past them. He was a significant figure compared to the others in the tavern, standing over six feet tall and with a chiseled physique typically only seen on the most elite of soldiers or athletes.

"Come on, babe, I'm paying," the man was saying to the waitress as the other came closer, "That means you do what I tell you."

"Get off me, you creep!" the waitress said, trying to push away from him, but his grip held her as he slipping his other hand into her top, causing her to cry out again.

"Sir," the man from the door said, coming to a stop next to him, "Let go of her. You saw the rules by the door as you came in: No touching the waitresses."

"Piss off," the man said, "Mind your own business, doorman."

"Last chance, sir," the other said, "Let her go."

The man at the table slowly released the woman, who quickly moved away as he rose to his feet, stepping up to the doorman. "And what are you going to do about it?" he growled.

And with a crack of flesh striking flesh, he went down, hitting the floor after a single punch from the doorman to his face. He wasn't out cold, groaning as his eyes rolled. It was likely he didn't even realize he was on the floor.

"That," the doorman said, "I'm going to do that."

He leaned down, grabbing the dazed man's angle, then glanced at the other two seated at the table, who both quickly put up their hands and shook their heads. "Sorry about the disturbance," the doorman said loud enough for all the patrons to hear, "Please enjoy your drinks."

Then he dragged the unconscious man across the floor and out the front door as the other customers returned to their conversations.

A moment later, he returned through the door without the other man, and returned to his seat by the door. He looked up to see the waitress where she had retreated behind the bar, and she was already placing filled mugs on her tray to deliver to another table. When she looked his direction, he nodded to let her know he was still watching, and she smiled and nodded back before turning to deliver her load of drinks.

"So this is where you ended up, huh?" said another man at the table just to his left, by the front window of the tavern, turning to face the other as he spoke.

"Matthew Godric," the doorman said, recognizing him immediately, "Have they finally sent you to take my head?"

"You think we don't have better things to do than kill you?" Matthew asked, and picked up his mug, draining what was left of his drink, then stood up, walking over to the doorman, and produced a rolled paper from his jacket, "Fact is I was sent to give you this. Wasn't exactly expecting to find the great Gaius Erron working as a bouncer, though."

"Drop the 'great,'" Gaius, the doorman, replied, "I know what they think of me back home. I'm assuming this is an order to report for court martial."

"Far from it," Matthew said as Gaius took the paper.

Gaius eyed the wax seal on the paper, stamped with the emperor's signet ring, then broke it, unrolling the paper. He scanned it quickly, and almost immediately had to stop and read more carefully, not believing what he was seeing. "This is from Princess Vivian," he said, "She wants me to return to the capital so I can be reinstated. No, not reinstated, recruited to her forces… What is this about?"

Matthew shrugged. "I'm not in her inner circle," he said, "If it's not in that letter, you'd have to ask her yourself."

Gaius looked back at the letter. This was not something he'd been expecting, and yet the thought of returning to the army…

"She's offering to wipe the record of my discharge and restore my title," he said, "What's bringing this on?"

"The civil war may be over, but things aren't good in the empire at this moment," Matthew said, "If she thinks we need you, I'm not going to argue. Besides that," Matthew walked past Gaius as he spoke, toward the door, but stopped and looked down to where Gaius was seated, "For what it's worth, sir, those of us in the rank and file never doubted you."

"Just the nobles hated me," Gaius said.

It seemed like a lifetime ago, but Gaius was a true rags to riches story. A peasant boy joining the army as soon as he was old enough, and rose through the ranks all the way to general by the time he was thirty. Under the previous emperor, he was the supreme commander of the empire's forces, but when the civil war began after the emperor's death, he had walked out. He'd been stripped of his title, his rank, and all his wealth because he could not bring himself to kill those he saw as his own countrymen.

The blue-blooded nobles were perfectly happy to see him go, especially since most of them were rebels and now did not have to face the army under his command. Though he knew that the young emperor had distinguished himself and won the war, Gaius now wondered if he could serve a man like that.

"The nobles who wanted you gone are all dead," Matthew said, "The young emperor is rather ruthless, as I'm sure you've heard. But you think the nobles hated you, you should meet your replacement. One of those birds is now the emperor's ranking general."

"A Rito?" Gaius said, looking up at him. He'd heard rumors, but never believed it. "A non-human would never have been an officer, let alone general, under his father."

"Times change," Matthew said with a shrug, "And we can either change with them, or fight what's a futile battle."

"Not all change is for the best, but if this bird is a competent officer, so be it," Gaius said, "According to this, I wouldn't be coming back as a general anyway, but something else. How is the princess putting together he own force, in any case?"

"Seems she has permission from her brother to put together an elite team for highly dangerous missions," Matthew said.

"We are talking about the blind girl, right?" Gaius said.

"She's still blind, but she's far from a girl anymore," Matthew said with a smile, "You'll see what I mean when you speak to her."

"And how do you know I'm going to see her at all?" Gaius said, "I haven't agreed to anything."

"Because you wouldn't have entertained this conversation this long if you weren't," Matthew said, then he pushed open the door, about to step out, "The empire needs its best soldiers now more than ever, General. Your other option is to stay here and bounce drunks for the rest of your days. See you back at the palace."

Gaius just grunted in response as Matthew exited out the door. He turned back to the letter. The princess wasn't just looking for a member for this team she was building. She wanted him to lead it. She also mentioned that she was aware of the reason for his discharge, but commended him for his beliefs. Others may have called him a traitor, but she believed that refusing to turn his sword on his own countrymen proved he was far from it.

But he wasn't as young as he used to be, either. It had taken years to climb the ranks, and close to a decade since he left the army. The fact they'd want him after all this time, either that spoke to foolishness or desperation.

Well, he could take a couple weeks off, go to the capital and see. That'd be the only way to know for sure. And he'd take some time on the trip to shake off the years of rust on his skills. And though he didn't realize it at the time, he was about to receive his first chance to do so.

The rest of the night in the bar passed without incident, apparently one drunk being knocked near unconscious was more than enough warning to others. After midnight, last call was made, and the final drinks were downed before customers began to make their way out the door, some more upright than others.

Gaius himself would leave after the customers, leaving the owner and waitresses to finish the last of the cleanup, and locked the door behind himself, then turned to walk in the direction of his home. He'd barely gone down the block before the sound of running feet coming up behind him caught his attention.

He could have stopped it, if he'd thought it was a threat, but fought back his own reflex to turn ready for an attack, thinking it might be one of the others from the bar bringing him something he may have forgotten.

That was proven false when he felt the impact on the back of his head, followed by the sound of breaking glass, and the shards rained down on the street around his feet.

"What the hell..." the man behind him said, holding the broken neck of the bottle as Gaius slowly turned to face him. The bouncer hadn't even flinched when it had struck him.

It was the same drunk he'd dragged out of the bar. "You again, and you just hit me with a bottle," Gaius said, "You're even dumber than I thought."

The drunk gritted his teeth and lashed out with the broken bottleneck, stabbing the sharp points toward Gaius' face. What happened next took only a few seconds. Gaius took one step to the right, the sharp edges passing harmlessly by him. With one hand, he grabbed the drunk's wrist, and with the other delivered a swift jab to the drunk's gut. The drunk grunted, the force of the blow knocking the wind from him and causing him to buckle at the waist.

Gaius dragged the drunk's wrist down, lifting one knee directly into his forearm. The drunk cried out and his grip on the broken bottle released, dropping it to the stones underfoot. Gaius brought his foot back down, the soles of his boots sliding as he turned his back to the drunk while keeping his grip on the arm, and then lifted the drunk by his arm over his own shoulder, and tossing the drunk down hard so he hit the stones on his back. The drunk looked up from his new perspective to see Gaius raise one foot high, then bring it down.

The drunk screwed his eyes shut in anticipation, only for the sound of Gaius' boot to hit the flagstone next to his ear. He slowly opened his eyes, seeing Gaius' leg less than an inch to the side of his head.

"That's your final warning," Gaius said, and stepped away from, "Go sleep it off and learn to behave yourself. Next time I'm likely to do something permanent. Clear?"

The drunk nodded, but Gaius was already walking away from him. Gaius brushed the small glass shards from his shoulders as he walked.

Matthew was right. Beating up drunks certainly wasn't how he had predicted spending his life. It wasn't why he'd learned his skills, or what he'd promised to use them for. What would Master Huang Xi say if he saw Gaius now? He also knew he was losing his edge. He hadn't faced a truly strong opponent since leaving the army.

He made his decision. He'd settle his accounts tomorrow, then leave for the capital. He'd see what the princess actually wanted from him, and possibly meet the new emperor. The last time he'd seen Maximilian, he'd been a boy that barely came up to Gaius' waist.

And also see if the rumors of the emperor's ruthless nature were true, or simply stories his enemies had spread to try to sow fear in the common man.

* * *

Hours passed, exactly how long she didn't know, the beating rain in her ears the entire time. Princess Zelda finally started to doze in the dark of the small hollow when something new made her ears tingle. The rain had stopped. She looked up to see her torch had burnt out, but sunlight was visible at the mouth of the hollow.

She slowly crawled to the light, peeking out beyond. Droplets clung to the leaves of the greenery around the entrance, and she could hear birds singing not far away. She struggled to draw out the memories. She had received basic survival lessons in her youth at her mother's insistence, but she didn't exactly take them seriously at the time.

Shelter was first, that she remembered, and it was essential to stay out of rain and other inclement weather as much as possible. If she got sick, there was no one around to help her. Second had to water, she thought, feeling the dryness of her own tongue after what had to be ten hours or so with nothing to drink. A person could survive four, maybe five days without food, though they'd grow weaker each day without. But without water, one would be lucky to last two.

Gods, why was this happening to her? What had she done? She wanted to crawl back in that hole where it was safe, but she would surely die if she did nothing. Her moment of weakness caused tears to well up in her eyes, but she gritted her teeth, wiping them away, and crawled out of the hole. She stood up, pulling the cloak tight around herself.

The jungle was thick, trees growing close together and vines hanging from their branches. Their bark was covered in green moss and an occasional flower.

What did that man say? Hyrule was northwest of here. A journey of months, and even longer on foot. To think she'd been brought so far so quickly made her head spin. Well, that was an objective, at least. To get back home. But first she had to survive.

She looked up, trying to get a fix on the sun through the branches of the trees. Believing she'd located east, she turned to what would be north, and taking a deep breath to shore up her courage, started walking.

At least the ground had been softened by the rain, but her feet were not accustomed to walking barefoot, and every stick and pebble jabbed into her feet, causing her to wince and hiss through her teeth.

Some form of clothing was something else she needed to figure out. She doubted the stories of natives dressing in grass and leaves, as they would hardly be all that protective, but she wasn't going to be able to walk all the way back to Hyrule naked. Some kind of leather would be preferable, or at least animal hide, she thought, holding the cloak tightly around herself, but she was hardly equipped for hunting, and she had no idea what kind of animals would be around here.

Zitheria was dangerous, even compared to other lands, she knew that. Poisonous animals, monsters, and even deadly plants. But what was always warned about in every book on the subject were the natives. Not to mention what Balthazar had told her. The Narak were a tribal society of humans that existed in these lands. The tribes never stayed still, they were nomadic in nature, but were also extremely hostile to outsiders, even to other tribes of their own.

Balthazar was himself a Narak, and stood out like a sore thumb in the capital. He was dark-skinned, more so than even a Gerudo like Damien, with black hair, but stood only about six feet in height, much shorter than Damien. Balthazar was not from Zitheria, however, and had told her he'd been born a slave in the lands of Riastad Empire. But he knew of his own parents, who had been brought from Zitheria to imperial lands.

While much of the savagery had been broken out of them as slaves, his parents had still borne elements of the tribes, most notably their teeth. Narak, as part of their passage to adulthood, filed their teeth to points, and in combat would bite just as viciously as they struck and stabbed. They also had scars of the numerous piercings on their faces, where they had previously put bone slivers as trophies in their lips, nose, cheeks, and eyebrows.

Balthazar had escaped life as a slave through learning the forge, and having considerable talent with a hammer and anvil. Nobles would pay small fortunes to his owner for weapons and armor forged by his hands, and he lived as comfortably as, if not a prince, then at least a very wealthy commoner.

But then he'd had to leave imperial lands in a hurry after an encounter with his owner's daughter. She had come up pregnant, and Balthazar's own words, this daughter wasn't exactly ladylike, and there were at least four others who could have been the father, but he was the only Narak, so if that baby came out a half-breed, he'd lose his head, and that was if they'd waited that long.

He'd fled, and sought shelter in Hyrule, using his talents as a smith to feed himself. Now he was the royal smith, forging the armor for the queen herself and her chosen elite.

And when he'd told her about the sharpened teeth, he'd shown her his own, which had been perfectly normal.

But what this all amounted to was that as dangerous as the animals and plants of Zitheria were, the Narak were far more so. As part of their culture, they engaged in ritual human sacrifice and cannibalism. She had a brief thought, were the people in white masks Narak? No, she immediately corrected herself. The one who had fallen next to her with an arrow through his throat, his mask had fallen off and he had most certainly been Hylian.

And then there was that woman called Six. She looked exactly the same as Zelda herself. Zelda had a twin brother, but no sister, and certainly not identical. And when she had stabbed the woman, there had been no blood on the knife when she pulled it out. She couldn't be human. Some kind of doppelganger? There were legends of such creatures, but she had never heard of anything saying they were real.

She was started from her thoughts by a distant sound. Not sudden, but becoming clearer as she walked. It was running water. A river!

Following the sound through the trees, it was only moments before she emerged in a clearing along the riverbanks. She almost cried in joy as she moved to the water, kneeling down and scooping the clear water in her palms and lifting it to her mouth. She might not have been on the cusp of dehydration, but she was thirsty enough that simple water tasted better than the finest wine she'd ever had.

The water was not running too quickly, and as she stopped drinking to catch her breath, she looked across it. It didn't look deep, and something silver under the surface caught her eye. It was a fish. More than one, in fact. Her stomach growled, as if on cue.

After water, the next vital piece of survival was food. And she had the fire kit in the pocket of the cloak. Fish was sounding like the best idea right now, but the question was how to catch it. She looked around, seeing nothing but the mossy trees to the horizon of the river's path.

Trees… She stood up and walked back to the treeline, looking up at the branches. She found one that seemed old, leafless, and grabbed on, pulling down. There was a crack, but not much movement. She jerked on it, pulling down again and again, hearing more cracking with each pull. Then it gave way, and she fell onto her back with the momentum, but with her prize.

It was straight enough, she thought as she sat up, and took her knife from the sheath on her arm, and set to work sharpening one end of the branch into a point. It only took a moment, and then she had a makeshift spear. She'd never spearfished before, but the concept seemed simple enough.

She moved back to the riverbank, looking for the fish, and spotted them swimming about. Okay, she thought, she had to wait until one came close enough. They'd just swim away if she chased them. She lifted the spear, and immediately realized another problem with her arm tangled in the cloak.

"Oh, great," she muttered, glancing around. Well, it wasn't like anyone was around.

She shed the cloak, dropping it on the ground behind herself, then stepped up to the riverbank again, lifting the spear over her head.

She waited, watching the streaks of silver in the water. Occasionally one broke the surface, eating insects that came down to the water. Zelda herself smacked at mosquitoes trying to get a meal of her, but never taking her eyes from the fish.

She wasn't as alone as she thought, however.

On the other side of the river, a set of eyes were on her. Dark hands with fingernails filed to points like claws pushed aside hanging leaves of a tree, getting a clearer view of the pale woman standing naked on the riverbank. This figure had no chance to call out for his companions, however, as an enormous hand suddenly clamped down on his mouth from behind, dragging him back into the trees. The big man's other arm wrapped around his neck. The Narak hunter struggled, clawing at the arm that held him with his fingernails, but his attacker refused to release his grip. The hunter could feel the pressure as the man tightened his arm around his neck, squeezing harder and harder.

A second later, there was an audible snap, and the hunter's body went limp. Fear shot through him, pain in his neck severe, but he was unable to even feel anything beneath that.

"You've got a few minutes before you die, but I don't have time to wait," the big man said, pulling a cloth from his belt and shoving it into the hunter's mouth to keep him from crying out, "Have to go deal with your friends before they find her too."

The hunter didn't understand his language anyway, but fear was visible in his eyes as the man sat him down against the tree, out of sight of the river, then turned and walked away without another word. The hunter would have screamed if he could. The man was heading directly for the nearest other member of his hunting party. That was no man. It was the wraith that had begun haunting this part of the jungle some years ago. It had to be.

Oblivious to what was happening, Zelda made her attempt, stabbing the spear into the water and cursing as the fish scattered with nothing to show for her effort. With a sigh, she raised the spear and resumed her wait, watching the fish and hoping they'd calm down and come within reach again.

Several minutes passed and her arm was aching from holding up the spear, but the fish did calm and some came close to her again. Taking her aim at one of the larger ones, she waited as long as she could, and when it came near the surface to eat an insect sitting on the surface of the water, she struck.

Red mist appeared in the water, the spear jerked in her grasp, and she smiled, almost not believing it as she lifted it from the water, the struggling fish impaled on the tip. She'd actually got one.

"Okay," she said, taking her eyes off the still struggling fish, "Next up is fire."

She jammed the butt of the spear into the soft earth near the river and set about her next task, gathering wood. There was plenty of fallen deadwood among the trees, though most of it was wet after the rain. But she did find dry wood under the denser foliage. She gathered as much as she could carry, returning to the riverbank. The fish had stopped struggling on the spear by now.

She dropped the wood, and knelt down by the pile. Now, how did this go? Obviously start with the smaller pieces, since they would burn easier, and she could break apart some of the larger pieces if she needed to. Also, needed to make sure the fire could breath. "Build a house and the fire lives in it," she whispered, "Build a grave pile and the fire dies."

She could hardly believe she remembered that phrase, but she did her best to set the wood like a pyramid, with an opening underneath. And this was where the kindling went, she thought, turning to where she had dropped the cloak and taking the metal box from the pocket. From inside the box, she took a helping of the wood shavings, placing them in the opening under the main pile of wood, and then the flint.

Taking her knife, she struck the flint, creating a flash of hot sparks. That was easy enough. She moved the flint over the kindling and struck it again. It took several attempts before the sparks caught on the shaving. Quickly she put the flint and knife down, leaning close to gently blow on the spark, spreading its heat and she was rewarded as visible flames rose from the shavings. A few more seconds and the small pieces of wood started to blacken and visible flames appeared on them. The fire grew in size quickly from there, and in a moment she was able to place the larger pieces onto the pile, and she soon had an open flame over a foot tall.

"Now," she said, turning to the spear with the fish, "I guess the easiest way is to leave you on that."

She pulled the spear from the earth and leaned it down until the fish was just above the flame, holding it there. In a few seconds, she was rewarded with a sizzling sound and the smell of the baking fish. In a way, she felt a sense of pride in this. She'd never cooked anything for herself before.

And she imagined the sight if someone saw her now. She was dirty, her hair a mess, and no clothing, she must be the very image of a cave-woman.

Thought the last one watching her did not happen to think so. She was still too clean, not mention slender and not nearly hairy enough to be a cave-woman. The man from the previous night had returned to his vigil over her after killing the remaining two members of the hunting group. Fortunately, the tribe they were from were unlikely to be alarmed by this. Given how dangerous Zitheria could be, their casualty rate among hunters was regularly high anyway. It was part of what kept the Narak's numbers from growing great enough to be a real threat to civilized lands.

But this girl, even with her basic skills, would not survive on her own in these lands. She had no idea how close she was to death only minutes ago. If a Narak hunting party found her, the best thing they could do would be to kill her outright, but that was unlikely.

And there was that voice he'd heard. The voice of a dead man, or at least, a man who should be dead. Look who's talking, he smiled to himself. It seemed the border between life and death was getting awfully thin these days.

There was no magic that could bring back the dead. That was one of the first laws that any would-be magician learned. But there were loopholes that could be exploited.

And if that dead man was back, it might be time to leave this jungle and settle matters once and for all.

But first, this princess was going to have to learn to stand on her own.

He watched as she took her knife to cut open the scales on the fish and get the meat inside. She had a good start. He wasn't about to carry a helpless child all the way back to Hyrule. He'd given her the warning, that out here there was nothing but to live or to die.

She had chosen to live, even if she didn't realize it. That was the first step. He'd be able to keep the Narak off her back, and if that woman, Six, or even better, the man behind the disembodied voice, came back for her, he'd deal with them.

And if they didn't, he'd give her a week, he decided, before he revealed himself again. If she kept to her northerly course, by then she might make it to the Maraz Tribe territory. They were a bit different from the other Narak, if only because Chief Hoots saw the benefits, and dangers, of dealing with outsiders. Right now, they were in Goreg Tribe lands.

Goreg Tribe weren't anything particularly special. They were as dangerous as any other tribe. But the Maraz Tribe owed favors to the right people, and weren't likely to kill strangers just for being of a pale complexion.

He sighed and rubbed his temple with two fingers. "I try to get out and this damn world is going to drag me back in," he muttered.

As for Zelda, she lay down the inedible pieces of the fish. The scales and bones, all picked clean. While she had hesitated at eating some of the other innards of the fish other than what would typically be called the meat, she realized she couldn't afford to be picky now, bland as it was with no seasoning to speak of. It had been of decent size, though, and left her feeling fed, but not stuffed. She could put out her fire, and keep walking.

"Actually," she said with an afterthought, looking at the blackened end of the spear, "I should get another one now, cook it and carry it with me in case I can't find something as easily for my next meal."

The man in the trees smiled. She was getting it. Maybe she wouldn't need a week. There were more difficult tasks he could teach her, but she should be allowed to grasp the basics on her own. She didn't need to be a master survivalist, but letting her build up her confidence would go a long way to what was eventually going to be demanded of her.

"As for the queen, she is going to owe me for this," he said to himself, "Not that she doesn't owe me plenty already."


	6. Chapter 6

I know these chapters are shorter than my regular readers are used to, but that'll change soon. Hardest part of a new story is actually getting it started, and I'm still laying groundwork for the long haul, but that's almost done now. Fun challenge for me: Tying events of the Silent Kingdom, through this story, to events of games that came out after I actually wrote them in the first place, and making it seem natural, like that's what I intended from the start. You'll see some of that in this chapter.

**Chapter 6: Plans Within Plans**

Upon returning to the castle, Queen Zelda had ordered that the information lockdown continue regarding the events of the day. If it got out that the princess had been abducted right out of her own castle, it could have severe political repercussions, especially when she was planning to meet the Emperor of Riastad in such a short time. It would make her appear weak if she couldn't protect her own home. Appearing weak in front of that man could be a death sentence and not just for herself.

It was bound to leak sooner or later, but she'd like to have something to say about it first and potentially head it off. In the meantime, she now had the sudden appearance of the Gerudo to deal with. For thousands of years, they'd been believed to be extinct. Their reappearance was going to cause a stir. Hopefully a pleasant one.

She had returned to her office, drafting several letters she was going to send out before the end of the day. Warnings to the right people of what had happened, and getting some quiet eyes on the roads to try to track down the cult, and then one to Baron Ravenholt to let him know about the meeting that was going to occur on his lands.

There was a knock at the door of the office and without looking up, Zelda said, "Enter."

One figure entered, walking up to her desk, pausing to give a nod to the ninja standing guard in the corner, and then Zelda looked up.

"Vargus?" she asked, surprised at the guest, "I wasn't expecting you."

Vargus was a very old man at this point. Many centuries old, he was very much in the twilight of his life, but still served in the position of the Shadow Blade, the leader of the ninja forces that made up the royal bodyguard. Like the others of his kind, his skin was black as coal, making his bright green eyes and snow white hair stand starkly out from his flesh. His dark complexion helped somewhat hide the deep lines of age in his face, but no one would think him a young man.

He was also missing most of his right arm. During the previous war, his arm had been severed between the shoulder and elbow to prevent a toxin that had entered his blood through a wound on his forearm from killing him. Due to this and his age, he had long retired from active assignments and now served in a more managerial manner. Responsible for assignments and information, as well as training new recruits when he had the time.

His severed arm had become something of an infamous legend among recruits, as when he did have time to participate in training sessions, he'd never address recruits by name or rank, merely pointing at them with the stump and saying "You." But the knowledge he had could not be denied, and they learned to listen well to what he taught. It was a difference between Hylians living only an average of one hundred years compared to this elf that had honed his deadly craft for centuries.

Dressed as he was now, one might not assume he was as dangerous as he actually was, wearing a simple blue tunic and brown trousers, though still carrying the katana on his right hip so he could draw it with his left hand.

"Considering it is past midnight, I wasn't expecting you to still be awake. I received word through my channels of what had happened," he said, replying to Zelda as he sat down in one of the seats in front of her desk, "The princess being abducted falls on my people. I've brought about twenty veterans with me, and we're going to reinforce the guard here, help with the investigation. And also reprimand those on duty and do a full audit to see if we have any problems in the roster."

"You think there was an insider," Zelda said, reading his intentions.

"That is one possibility," Vargus said, "But getting the princess back should come first."

"Oh, that's right, I should have told you," Zelda said, remembering the earring that would have allowed her to contact him, "Link and Kilishandra followed the kidnappers to an area west of the city. I still have men combing it for clues. But all we have right now is witness reports from Gerudo travelers that say my daughter was taken through a magical portal, then Link and his group, along with the two scouts of yours, vanished in a flash of light.

"After that, Link did try to contact me with the crystal earring. I could barely hear him, but I did catch that they were all alive, including my daughter. But there was noise drowning out most of it. I didn't catch where they are, if he even said."

"Noise drowning it out likely means he was out of range and was increasing the power to try to boost the signal," Vargus said, "Probably also burned out his earring's charge in the process if it's a great distance."

The earrings were one of many designs the ninja had uncovered in the old Sheikah village in the mountains when the moved in there following the last war. Many buildings had to be rebuilt to be habitable, and some had to be completely torn down first. In the process, they had come across a sealed underground chamber in one basement. A heavily trapped and sealed vault that had taken over a month to crack into, and contained within were artifacts beyond monetary value. Weapons and tools of the previous royal bodyguard, records of their people that might lead to an explanation of why the Sheikah disappeared in the first place.

But the greatest value was in the schematics of new tools and weapons yet to be made. Designs that a genius had imagined, but were beyond the ability of engineers at the time to actually craft, and many of which were still beyond them. The earrings were but the first, allowing communication across great distances by charging a particular crystal with mana and inscribing the right enchantments upon it.

Zelda had encountered something like it before, in the form of a necklace used by lawbringers in a land across the sea, which they called soundstones. So with her permission, the ninja had recruited skilled jewelers to craft them, and help from available magicians to perform the necessary enchantments and mana charge. And another design had shown a device capable of recharging the mana without needing a magician, and they had engineers seeing about how to build it.

All together, the designs fused science and magic in a way Zelda had never seen before. There was a design for an explosive that was nothing more than concentrated mana in a glass vial that, while destructive, would also be completely stable and impossible to set off by accident, but the amount of mana required was still beyond their ability to gather.

How the Sheikah came up with these designs, they'd likely never know, but the potential for them was simply too great to not pursue. At the moment, they could only manufacture so many earrings, so only the ninja and Zelda, along with her select elite, wore them.

"If my daughter is with Link, then I'm sure they'll be on their way back here," Zelda said, "If she isn't, he'll be doing everything he can to find her, I'm certain. In the meantime, we do have two prisoners from the initial group that took her, and they are being interrogated now. I told the interrogators to inform me the instant they talked."

Vargus reached to his ear, touching the earring there and said, "Marcus… Yeah, it's me. I need Saren and Lark in the capital as soon as possible. Yeah, by morning if they can. Thanks." He then lowered his hand, looking back at Zelda. "Nothing against the Hylians, but those two are more likely to get the answers we need. I'd have brought them with me if I'd known."

Zelda sighed. She knew the two he was referring to. She detested torture as a rule. It was messy, and too easy to make the victims confess to anything just to make it stop. But Saren and Lark were masters of the art. They knew exactly how to push a man to the limit of his pain threshold, but not too hard past it. They knew how to avoid that very situation by hovering right at that edge of a man's limits. And they also knew how to break men that were able to resist the efforts of less skilled torturers.

"If I have to guess, they won't know where she is anyway," Zelda said, "Very likely the grunts aren't told what the boss is doing. But they may know where the main body of their group is and that could set us on the right path to rooting them out."

A ringing in her ear made her stop, and she held up a hand before Vargus could respond. A touch of the earring and a voice in her ear could be heard.

"Your majesty, this is Karlic, one of the scouts following the Gerudo."

The Gerudo had said they'd likely arrive in the evening, but the sun was down and they had yet to show. So this was likely what had become of them, she surmised. "Report," she said.

"They told the truth about their numbers," the voice in her ear said, "Less than thirty altogether. They've made camp about an hour from the city. Seems there's a few upset that they didn't make it to the city before the sun went down. Probably slower going than they expected. And they know the gates all close at sundown."

"So I can expect them in the morning then," Zelda said, "Just keep a watch on them, but don't let them know you're there."

"As you command, your majesty," the voice said, and faded as the contact was broken.

Zelda lowered her hand and leaned her head back against the back of her chair, closing her eyes as she took a deep breath.

"Are you feeling alright, your majesty?" Vargus asked.

"Let's see," Zelda said, turning her head to look at him, "My daughter has been kidnapped by a death cult that has been killing innocents for the past several months, a very big and scary neighboring empire is eyeballing me, and to top it off, an extinct race has turned up on my doorstep. To be fair, they at least seem friendly, but now we have to start a very long and often painful process of introducing and integrating an entirely new culture with our existing ones. And because I'm the queen and the way my people see me has a massive effect on both willingness to serve and morale, I must put on a strong face in spite of all this no matter how I actually feel. So to answer your question, other than all that, yes, I think I'm just fine."

Her tone had grown steadily harsher and more angry as she spoke, only to sink back with a defeated sigh. Vargus was one of the few people she trusted enough to show her true feelings in front of, but it made her feel guilty to throw it all at him like that.

"Sorry about that," she said.

"The situation is stressful, I understand that," Vargus said as he rose to his feet, "You may want to get some rest while you can. If you'll excuse me, I'm going to go check on your interrogators and make sure they don't do any permanent damage before Saren and Lark arrive."

Zelda nodded and Vargus made a quick bow before turning to leave the room.

Rest wasn't going to do much at this point, she thought to herself. All the anxiety, and fear for her daughter, would likely keep her awake long into the night. This wasn't the first time she'd been under such pressure, but the best outlet for her stress was no longer around.

Arthur, the father of her children, had also had an almost magic touch when he'd give her a massage. It was difficult to put into words how effective it was for easing not just physical pains, but mental ones as well under the practiced hands of a man who knew exactly where and how to do such work.

She sighed, having only added another downer on top of her already low mood. She wrapped her arms across her chest, holding each of her own shoulders with the opposite hand, and closed her eyes, trying to at least find the warmth of the memory of his arms around her.

"I miss you, love," she whispered, "But I still have so much work to do yet."

* * *

When the sun had come up, Link had given the order to move out, the group leaving the cave and setting out through the jungle. A short climb up a tree, and Lilith was able to spot the sun, determining their direction, and Link was ready to march them north when Lilith called down something else.

"I thought you said the Narak were tribal," she called down.

"They are," Link said, looking up toward her.

"Then what's the massive city over to our northeast?" she said back down.

"Well, if it's what I think it is, I know where we are now," Link said. Deciding he needed to see it himself, he reached up to a branch, grabbing hold and climbing up the tree himself. As he reached up, Lilith leaned down to grab his hand and help him up to her level.

Link sighed as he turned to see it in the distance. Massive stone walls, overgrown with moss, and a rising pyramid structure visible within. It was so massive, it was visible even at this distance, but he guessed it was a good forty to fifty miles away from them.

"It's not a city, it's a temple," Link said, "And more ancient than any standing structure in Hyrule. The ancient Narak, and some of the modern ones, worship a spirit in the jungle they believe is a god."

"Really..." Lilith said, "And the ancients built that…? It's bigger than our capital."

"That it is," Link said, "And it's a deadly maze of traps inside."

"Why would a temple be trapped?" Lilith asked.

"I don't know the fully history, but it ties to what I mentioned before, about the human sacrifice," Link said, "As part of those sacrifices, the victims would be turned loose inside, likely on the promise that if they made it out, they'd be spared."

"The Narak are just unpleasant people all round, aren't they?" Lilith said.

"Pretty much," Link said as he started to descend the tree, then paused, "Well, there is the Maraz tribe. They're decent enough, but that's likely just because Chief Hoots owes his life to Kilishandra and myself. Long story, I'll tell you later."

Link dropped from the tree, landing with a grunt at the sharp pain in his knees and reaching out for the tree trunk for balance. Kilishandra moved to him, reaching out to help, but he waved her off. The other members of the group were waiting close by and turned at his landing.

"I'm fine," Link said, "Just my knees. Nothing a soak in the Ordon hot spring won't cure."

"We didn't get a chance for our usual stop there," Kilishandra said, "You need to be more careful. You're not as young as you used to be."

"Yeah, and I've tried to cripple myself almost daily for most of my life," Link said, "I know."

"So what was it you saw?" Kilishandra asked.

"That big temple, what's it called..." Link said.

"Don't look at me," Kilishandra said, "I'm not even going to try to pronounce that crap."

"But it's off on the northeast horizon," Link said, "About fifty miles or so."

"That means we're sandwiched right between Goreg and Malta lands," Kilishandra said and then sighed.

"Is that bad?" Lance asked as Lilith descended from the tree, landing next to Link with almost no sound.

"Well, both tribes will kill us on sight," Link said, "But the Malta are a much bigger tribe, and they're the ones that occupy that temple at present. Even with Kili here, they'd likely overwhelm us with sheer numbers."

Areil was standing to his right, and had been keeping an eye on the surrounding, but that caused her to turn, looking at Kilishandra. "Throwing fire might be dangerous in this jungle," she said.

"Oh, I can do more than fire," Kilishandra said, "But the real problem is stamina. Magic is very taxing on the body, and while I can last longer than most, a long and sustained fight will drain me."

"And the Narak don't fight like Hylians," Link said, "They come in small groups, circle around you and move in from every direction. They know the jungle and how to use it. Even if we can kill a hundred easily, they'll keep coming for hours, exhausting us all."

"So we go for the Goreg lands, then, if they are fewer?" Damien said.

"Our best hope is to not be spotted at all," Link said, and pointed north, "We slip through on the borders of their lands, and aim for Maraz territory. From here, it should take us four days or so to reach them, and from there another week to reach the border between Zitheria and the Empire. Once we're in imperial lands, we'll be much safer."

"In that case, we're going to need to find food and water," Natalya said, "There are some fruits in these trees..."

"Nope," Link said, looking up, "They're all red fruits. Red fruits in Zitheria are all highly poisonous. Not exactly fatal, but blindness, diarrhea, and so on. And the Narak use them to make an oil that they dip their arrowheads in, which is boiled down and far stronger. It is fatal. They won't use that on us, though."

"Why not?" Lilith asked.

"Because they'd want to eat us," Link said.

"Not sure I find that comforting," Lilith said.

"We'll be alright," Link said, clapping her on the shoulder, "All we have to do is stick together and watch each other. Now, if I'm remembering correctly, I think there is a river in that general direction, so we can get some water and breakfast."

He pointed into the trees, in a northwestern direction, as he said this, and then motioned for the others to follow as he started walking.

"At least we're finally moving," Damien muttered as they moved.

"Ease up, man," Lance said to him, "Nothing we can do to help it now, so you might as well calm down."

"Yeah, I know," Damien said with a sigh, "I just… No, nevermind."

Lance looked over at him, but didn't press. Damien was clearly still angry about what happened, but pushing him about it wasn't going to help. The rest of the party was walking in silence, so they fell quiet as well, ears open to the jungle around them, listening for anything that could be a warning of danger in this unsafe land. Areil looked like the most uncomfortable among them, no doubt being used to the dryness of the Gerudo Desert, this humidity must feel like she was practically underwater. The dark elf twins didn't look much better, wearing that black armor, and darker colors had a tendency to not breathe as well, on top of it being hard leather.

But as they walked, Lance couldn't shake the feeling that they weren't that far away. They'd seen the masked woman take the princess through a portal, and he'd seen a jungle through that portal. It was possible she was closer than they even realized.

* * *

In their dark hideaway, the series of tunnels kept secret from outsiders, Vaati sat alone in his chambers at the small table, an empty plate before him as he leaned back with his eyes closed. To a casual observer, it may have looked as if he'd fallen asleep in his seat, but the truth was he was in a form of meditation. When one had lived as long as he had, it took time to collect his thoughts and memories. More than once, he'd been lost in his own ocean of memories and it nearly cost him his life because of how long it took him to recover.

And the key to defeating that was a form of meditation in which he partitioned his conscious mind from his own memories, in order to safely sort and push them away. To describe it to someone who had never experienced it, it could be seen as sorted them like books on a library shelf, so that he could find them when he needed them. He dared not simply forget anything, should he need it in the future.

To put it simply, his own vast ocean of knowledge was attempting to drive him insane, and only this careful form of sorting his memories staved that off.

His meditation was interrupted by a pounding fist on his door. The thralls knew better than to interrupt him at this time, he thought as he sat up, opening his eyes and rising from the chair. That meant there were only two people who would dare to do so, and neither of them should even be here.

He walked to do the door and pulled it open to see the face of none other than Princess Zelda waiting for him. But naturally it was not her. Six had returned unexpectedly, but he took note of the bundle of clothing under her arm. She'd completed that task, at least.

"What are you doing back here?" he asked, looking at her as she stood nearly double his height.

"Ask your ghost friend," Six growled, "He's the one who called me back."

Said ghost was always listening in, and the glass shards on the table emitted a faint glow, a second later the dark silhouette of the otherworldly being rising from them.

"It was the only way to save her life," the spirit said.

"Did they learn your identity?" Vaati asked Six as he slowly walked back to the table and sat down, "I warned you that Kilishandra was a real danger to even your state."

"Not her," Six said, "It was a man. Big one, like almost eight feet tall. Couldn't see his face clearly in the dark, but he evidently scared the hell out of ghost boy."

"How did you even see what was going on?" Vaati asked toward the ghost, "I thought you were confined to Limbo and the shards of this crystal ball were your only link to us."

"My knowledge and power went into the creation of Six," the ghost said, "Part of the process you performed linked her to me. I see through her eyes as if they were my own."

"The hell you say?!" Six said, anger rising in her voice.

Vaati raised one hand to her, and she growled but just dropped the clothing bundle, crossing her arms angrily.

"You did not mention this when I went through the process to create her," Vaati said, "I don't like my supposed ally keeping secrets from me."

"I did tell you about the last creature like this I made," the ghost said, "He broke free of our control and became a hindrance. There's no way I'd let another one walk free without a leash."

"This one also hasn't been tortured from the moment she was conscious," Vaati said, "She's been properly raised and trained by me. I've put twenty years of effort into her and this plan and will not have you jeopardize it because of mistrust. You will sever this connection immediately."

"Sorry, I'm afraid I cannot do that in my current state," the ghost said, "Once I walk the living world again, however, it will be a simple matter."

"Fine," Vaati said, "But once I have completed the preparation for your return, you will release her."

"The sooner, the better, I say," the ghost said.

"In the meantime, just accept that you have an audience," Vaati said to Six, then turned back to the ghost, "Now what about this man she encountered. You know him?"

"A powerful wizard, not as mighty as Kilishandra, but too much for Six to handle on her own," the ghost said, "If he learns her true identity, she'll be just as dead as if Kilishandra does."

"He kept me from killing the actual princess," Six said, "And she's not far from those knights will have landed."

"True enough," Vaati said, "We might get lucky and the Narak will kill her first, and then eat the evidence, but I don't think we can count on that if this wizard gets involved. Did this wizard step in to protect the princess?"

"I'm not sure," Six said, "He seemed ready for a fight, but I don't think she knew him. I had to use my last crystal to teleport away."

"He likely sensed your arrival from the portal and was simply investigating the magical disturbance," the ghost said, "In any case, I think we should expect him to take her in his protection. She'll live."

"If the knights find her, then the whole plan is ruined!" Six said.

Vaati slowly rubbed his chin, deep in thought, then looked toward the ghost. "What about me? How do you think I'll fare against him?"

"I'm afraid while he may not be as powerful as Kilishandra, the result of direct magic battle will be the same," the ghost said, "Wind magic is your specialty, and you know it is a poor counter to lightning and fire."

"Ugh, brute force like that, I'd hardly call it magic," Vaati said, "But you're right. Once you're with us, will you be able to deal with him?"

"I'll need time to prepare," the ghost said, "He bested me last time because he backed me into a corner. I'm not going to let it happen again. But with enough time, even the most powerful sorcerers can be unmade with a clever trap."

"We might not have that time," Six said.

"If the knights find the real princess, we simply move to the backup plan," Vaati said, motioning with one hand for her to calm down, "As long as I've lived, something I've become very good at is staying alive. When it comes to making plans, always expect your first plan to fail. And for good measure, expect the next five to fail as well. Always have a backup."

"You didn't tell me there was a backup plan," Six said.

"Because I still wanted the first to succeed, if at all possible," Vaati said, "The backup plan involves a lot more of that gruesomeness in other hall out there."

"The necromancy," Six said, confirming it.

"Aye," Vaati said with a sigh, "I said I was willing to do anything to make this succeed, though."

"Just finish the current task," the ghost said, "Once I walk the world of the living again, I will deal with the wizard, and the knights. Even if they find the real princess, no one will know if they never leave Zitheria."

"A shame," Vaati said, "Link and Kilishandra both would be quite useful if they could be brought around."

"You'd be wasting your time," the ghost said, "Kilishandra, maybe, but she's bound to Link now, and his personal morals are unshakable. Like I said before, he may not possess magic like she does, but he is far more dangerous in the long run."

"Well, just so we're clear," Vaati said, pointing at the ghost, "Any more secrets from you and you're done. You won't get what you want without my help."

"And you think you'll be able to get your hands on Hyrule and the Triforce without me?" the ghost would have been sneering if they could see it.

"Like _I_ said, always have a backup plan," Vaati said.

"So what should I do now?" Six asked.

"Stay here for the next few days," Vaati said, "We're almost ready for the ritual, and the last ones we need should be here tomorrow, and then we'll see where we go from there."

"The last ones..." Six said, turning and looking out the open door into the large open cavern, "You mean all those pregnant women the thralls have tied up out there."

"Yes," Vaati said, "Like I said before, necromancy is truly a disgusting thing."

"That's why you need me," the ghost said, "Because I'll do the things you're not willing to."

Even Six, who could kill without conscience and had no stomach, still felt as if hers was turning over at the thought of it. The thralls, in the white robes and masks, were preparing the ritual circle in front of all those women. The women cried, begging to be freed, praying for someone to come for them, some even calling for their husbands or sons by name. Others just sat there, staring into space, having completely given up.

And all of them sat there in the shadow of the altar, lit by the two blazing fires on either side of the sacrificial slab. Above it towered the idol of the god that the thralls had been groomed into worship. Six had asked Vaati if it was even real, and he had waited a moment, then simply whispered, "Yes. I've seen it."

The idol towered nearly fifteen feet up, the head almost at the ceiling of the cave. The body was indistinct. There was a shape, but it was overly long, and many folds of dark fabric wrapped the altar, which was meant to represent the fact it was either covered by a dark smoke, or the smoke was its body, constantly changing shape. But the face was the most disturbing part. Like a great beast, a snout like a pig but fangs like a crocodile, and two enormous tusks from either side of its jaw. The eyes of the altar burned brightly, lit by flames within the head itself that the thralls climbed up to refuel each day. It gave it an ominous feeling that it was somehow alive, though it was only carved from stone, as the light of its vision shifted and danced on the ceiling.

But it was just a part of the plan. If that thing was real, there was no plan to actually loose it on the world, in spite of what the thralls were told.

Six was not human. She had no blood, no bones, nothing of the sort within her body. And yet she felt something that humans would describe as a chill running down her spine just imagining meeting a creature like that. Just the knowledge that it actually existed was bad enough.

She wondered if Vaati had told the truth, if he had actually seen it. She wondered if _anyone_ had ever seen a creature such as that.

* * *

The Sages lived apart from the populace of the world. They were not the first of their kind, the offices passing down through the generations for over thousands of years, since before the founding of Hyrule. One who had remained far longer than he should have was the old Sage of Light. The name he had given when meeting the Hero of Time four thousand years ago had be Rauru, though that was not his original name.

Originally known as Darius, he was more ancient than any had known at that time. A hero of an ancient war that had occurred more than eight thousand years ago, he had been instrumental in founding the circle of Sages, as well as maintaining peace through the passage of time, and he had lent his knowledge and power in the fight against Ganondorf, the King of Evil, more than once.

In his own words, he had lived far beyond what he should have, and his own body was a desiccated husk when Queen Zelda first met him, slowly crumbling to ash before her very eyes. He had perished almost three decades ago, slain in battle with the devil goddess Shaklator, and his office passed to the next chosen for the role.

She was Sheila Anthress. The new Sage of Light, she was opposite of what the Sages were used to in that office. While the previous had been the oldest and most experience of the Sages, the guide and teacher for them all, now the Sage of Light was the youngest of them all, and the one they were teaching.

It was not as though she was a poor Sage. In fact, the other five all felt she had done very well, having to step into the role and immediately join the fight against the devil goddess, and she had risen to the challenge admirably.

What the Sages felt she lacked was the separation from her old life the office required. The Sages, by necessity, lived separate from the world at large, because they frequently had to make decisions that they could not allow personal feelings to affect. Their primary task was to protect the world from outside forces, creatures and beings beyond the comprehension of most, by keeping such things out. Fear for individuals of personal attachment could compromise them and cause them to make poor decisions in this regard.

This was why one of their greatest laws was that they could not interfere with the battles of mortals unless it threatened the world itself, as the battle against Ganondorf did millennia ago.

The other Sages felt Sheila had not distanced herself enough from the mortal world. She remained in regular contact with Queen Zelda of Hyrule, even just for friendly visits, and while she had not been able to be there for him much of his life, refused to completely step out of the life of her son, Damien.

But when she took the office, she took the oath, that her life was no longer her own and belonged to the world as a whole, same as they all did, and it was recorded by Eternity, the Goddess of Time herself. If she violated that oath, it would be the gods who struck her down, that had never happened, so she must be committed to her task in spite of all this.

As the decades passed, Sheila had gained more and more of the shared power of the Sages. The accumulated knowledge of all the past Sages was available to them, and amplified her already impressive magical skill with the power of all those that came before, including Darius himself. She could leaf through his memories, or any other past Sage, like the pages of a book.

And it was from these memories that she had come upon the most terrifying knowledge she had ever encountered.

Long, long ago, in ages beyond reckoning, before the ancient war, before the time of Darius, and before the world even bore the shape it did now, before the time of first Sages, there was another civilization, now lost even to legend. Even what the Sages knew was nothing but hearsay and speculation. But some things from that ancient time were very real.

One was the weapon called the Master Sword. Darius had named it Silver Fang in his time, but its name was ultimately irrelevant. It was a weapon more ancient than most mortals could comprehend, a product of that ancient lost civilization, and it was a vital tool in the ongoing battle against the darkness.

It was known as the weapon that could slay all evil, and most importantly, it could neutralize the power of the golden Triforce when that power was wielded by evil. This was what gave it the power to piece the dark magicks used by Ganondorf in his ancient battle against the Hero of Time.

Though even as she thought this, the memories of the Sages she knew of the King of Evil from, he was a very different man from the one she had met thirty years ago.

The man who was the father of her son.

And the answer to the change of his character was the other thing from that ancient time that now lay before her. She stood on a high cliff, inside the golden lands known to mortals of the world as the Sacred Realm. The land had been the seat from which the golden goddesses had done their work, creating the world and the creatures that inhabited it, and then they had departed, leaving the world to the mortals, watched over by other gods, including the younger, gentler goddess Hylia.

It was a land that was both part of the world and separate from it. Just as the three golden goddesses had numbered, there were three gateways from the world to the Sacred Realm, and Sheila knew all were closed at this time, and that was perhaps the only thing protecting the world from the monster that lay before her.

When Ganondorf had first been contained in the Sacred Realm by Darius and the other Sages with the Hero of Time, he had fought against the imprisonment, driven into a rage that had consumed his mind. Many, many centuries later, he would recover from this, but have no memory of what had transpired, and would believe he had gone insane and then found himself again. He was not entirely wrong in that assessment, but that gap remained a permanent blank spot in his memory.

During this time, the Sages had seen what was transpiring and worked to actually help him. With their aid, it was a great darkness that was pulled from him that allowed him to recover himself, and the action left a dark scar on the Sacred Realm itself. A large swatch of the land was stained black, any creature that attempted to enter that darkness was consumed by it. In the time following Ganondorf's escape from the Sacred Realm, things began to come back out of it. Monsters of various shapes and sizes, though most significant and deadly were the ones that resembled Ganondorf himself, or more precisely, the beast that legend simply called Ganon, in all its forms.

And recently, those creatures returned to the darkness, as if pulled by an irresistible force, becoming a part of that darkness once again.

What was this darkness? Sheila had a theory as she stared down into it. It had been a part of Ganondorf, and she believed the separation from it was what eventually allowed him to recover not just his sanity, but to grow into the person she had known. It had taken time. At one point, the Sages had given up on him ever reforming and attempted to execute him, but their failure at that may have been what finally started it. To hear Ganondorf say it, it had been his adopted daughter, seeing himself in her, and realizing what he had become that had finally started that salvation.

But this darkness was more ancient than the man it had appeared from. It was more ancient than Hyrule and the Sages themselves.

In the lost history, what she had been able to piece together, there had been a being of pure, unrelenting darkness and evil that had been struck down by a hero wielding the Master Sword, just as the Hero of Time had struck down Ganondorf himself. That being's physical body had been destroyed, but its soul lived on, and with its final breath, cursed the hero and his allies, so that the being of darkness would one day be reincarnated in mortal flesh, and he would forever torment the hero's descendants. That reincarnation had been Ganondorf.

And Sheila believed this darkness before her was that darkness, the soul of the ancient being, reincarnated but then had been separated from the mortal form it had taken, ending the time of the King of Evil and allowing Ganondorf the man to eventually find himself and be free of that dark fate.

The darkness shifted before her, a shape she couldn't make out moving within it, and then two slits of light appeared, widening with a yellow glow. They were eyes, staring straight at her.

"When one gazes long into darkness, that darkness gazes back," Sheila whispered, "Isn't that right, Demise?"


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7: Into the Jungle**

The river was a welcome sight to the group. They'd heard the running water and moved toward it, and once it was in sight, Link warned them to keep their eyes open, because it was in a clearing with wide banks. In spite of the previous rain, this was the dry season, and the river was much lower than normal. During the wet season, those wide banks would be underwater as the river rose all the way to the trees on either side.

Lance cupped water in his hands, lifting it to drink, then did it again and splashed it across his face, wiping away the feeling of grime from sweat and dirt from the day's growth of stubble on his face.

The others had come to the riverside to do the same, and Lance cursed his idiocy. Even in the rush of leaving the castle, he should have thought to bring a waterskin with him. Though he did feel better to see Areil, Natalya, and Lilith all pull waterskins from their belts to refill. So they'd be able to carry at least some water with them.

But, he thought as he stood up, the river seemed to run south, so going upriver might be an option if they were going to go north as Link had said. They didn't have to go too far from it, so they'd have access. As he stood up and turned around, he saw Link and Kilishandra nearby, they had not come to the river, but Link was knelt down by something.

"Somebody had a meal here," Link said as Lance came closer, and Lance saw the fish bones and scales left on the ground next to a small black and gray pile of ashes. The scales were also browned, clearly cooked over the fire.

"Probably early this morning," Kilishandra said, looking back toward the rest of the group as they rose up from the river.

"Footprints as well," Lance said, looking at the ground around them, "Looks like they were barefoot."

"Could be a Narak," Kilishandra said.

"Not likely," Link said, "They tend to cover their tracks, leave no sign of passage."

He reached down, putting his fingers into the pile of ashes.

"Cold," he said and stood back up, "Fire's been out for a while."

Lilith and Natalya approached them as he said this.

"You two," Link said, "Why don't you take a look at these tracks, see if you can figure out where our friend went. Stay within earshot, though. I don't want to be jumped."

Natalya squatted down next to the ashes, examining the footprints around it. "Relatively small feet," she said, "Likely either a teenager or a woman. Or a very dainty man. Not too heavy, either, prints aren't deep. I'd guess somewhere between ninety and a hundred pounds. Maybe one-ten at the most."

Lilith leaned down, pushing at the fish-scales with one finger. "Hole in the side of this," she said, "She was spearfishing."

"Sounds like a good idea for breakfast," Lance as as Damien and Areil came up beside him.

"Never liked fish, but I'll take it over starving," Areil said.

"Footprints are all uniform in size," Natalya went on as she stood up, tracing the path she saw away from the fire, "It was only the one person. Looks like they went this way."

"Headed upriver," Link said, "Everyone keep your eyes open, but don't go too far."

He turned and walked toward the river to get a drink himself, and Kilishandra followed behind him. Natalya motioned to Lilith. "Come on, this trail's easy to follow," she said, "Let's go check the treeline, see if anyone else was or is around."

"Like I said, stay within earshot," Link said.

As much training as they doubtless had, they were still young and he was certain lacked true field experience. But the reason they'd been selected as scouts instead of the royal bodyguard was because they'd received an extensive education on those kinds of skills from their mother. Silviana was what one would call a forest ranger. She had a bit of a complicated past, was even a slave when she was younger, but lived in the forest for most of her life. Now she lived in Ordon with her husband, both of them were officially retired, but she still put her skills to use as the village's new guard, since Rusl was getting too old for the job.

Silviana was also one of the most terrifying people Link had ever met. There were many among the ninja who could remain unseen if they wished, but Silviana's skill in that regard was almost comparable to true invisibility. Link fully believed that if she didn't want to be seen, she could standing on your foot and you still wouldn't be able to find her. Even how she walked was strange, as she had a manner of sliding her feet across the ground, even when just calmly walking in the open, making sure she made no sound from footfalls, but also brushing aside any twigs or such that would crack, and yet somehow she left barely any sign of her passage. No trails in the earth from sliding her feet as such, and barely any footprints.

Link watched the twins as they moved away from the group. No, they didn't have that trait. They walked like normal people, though their steps did fall softly and nearly silent, but anyone trained by the ninja tended to walk like that.

"If the person here wasn't a Narak, then who do you think it was?" Damien asked, causing Link to turn back to him.

"Not a clue," Link said, "And it's not that important right..."

He stopped as one of the twins called out to them, saying there was a body.

Following her voice, the group moved quickly to the treeline. Lilith and Natalya were not far in, but they were out of sight of the river. And sure enough, there was a dead body on the ground, hidden from the sight of anyone by the river by a large tree where the body had been leaned against in a sitting position.

"Yeah, that's a dead Narak," Link remarked as he knelt down in front of the body.

It had been a man, looking like he was in his late twenties, head hanging down with chin against his chest. Only clothing was a waist-wrap that fell to near his knees and a necklace made of human teeth hanging from his neck.

"Everyone keep your eyes up," Link said, "We might not be alone."

"I don't see any injuries," Damien said, looking close at the body.

Link reached to the man's head, pulling it up by the hair. There was an audible and painful sounding grinding of bones as his neck moved.

"Broken neck," Link said, "Likely was left here and actual cause of death was suffocation. Looks like his throat was completely collapsed. Throttled, maybe, with a real tight grip."

"Area's undisturbed, though," Natalya said, looking around them at the fallen leaves and moss underfoot, "There wasn't a struggle."

"So whoever did this got him from behind," Link said, pulling the man's head up further, "Hello. Kili, look at this."

Kilishandra knelt down, getting closer to where she could see what Link indicated. "Bruises on his neck are wrong," she said.

"How could that be wrong?" Lance asked, moving closer, trying to see himself.

"When someone is throttled, the attacker obviously has to grip tight. So it leaves bruises where the fingers grip," Kilishandra said, "If his attacker came from behind, we should see the eight marks of their fingers on the front of his throat. If he came from the front, we should see the thumb-marks."

"But there's just two large bruises on either side that didn't come from any fingers," Link said, "Whoever did this came from behind and wrapped their arm around this man's neck, got his chin above their elbow. And then they pulled backward until they snapped his neck."

Link released his grip on the corpse, the horrible grinding sound of bones heard again as his head fell. He picked up one of the body's hands, holding it up to look at the nails. They were sharpened into claws, like all Narak, but he was turning to see under them. "Looks like blood and maybe skin under his nails," Link said.

"So he was fighting back," Kilishandra said, "Clawing at whoever was holding on to him."

"We can't stay here," he said, rising to his feet, "This guy will have had friends around, and probably another hunting party will come through looking for them sooner or later as well. And to top it off, whoever did this might not be friendly either. Let's go upriver. We'll stop to fish up something to eat when we're a safe distance from here."

Link started walking, the others moving behind him, eyes around them as they walked in a line between the trees.

Damien moved up beside Lance as they walked. "You think the dead guy was following the person at the river?" he asked.

"Maybe," Lance said, "But I guess there's no way to know. I don't think it likely matters for us anyway."

"I don't know," Damien said, "I've got this feeling… What if it was the princess?"

"Footprints were barefoot," Lance said, "She wasn't. Plus, it wouldn't make any sense for them to drag her halfway across the world just to leave her here."

"Yeah, maybe," Damien said, "It's just… No, you're right. Nevermind."

"Come on, you'll probably feel better after you have something to eat," Lance said.

"Yeah."

* * *

In Hyrule, at that moment, it was past midnight. Most of the denizens of the kingdom were long since asleep and the castle halls, normally noisy with staff and visitors alike during the day, were silent and one would hear nothing but one's own footsteps as they walked the halls.

But there was one who was not sleeping, in spite of her best efforts to do so. Young Anastasia, Link and Kilishandra's daughter, lay staring into the darkness above the bed, unable to banish the thoughts from her mind. She didn't know the full details, but she'd heard the shouting in the garden, and all access to it had been blocked by the time she got there, the guards not allowing anyone in. But her brother and parents had both disappeared from the castle by then as well.

Something serious had happened, but no one was talking about it. And a girl, still a squire, asking questions resulted in nothing but being told to mind her own duties. She'd even gone so far as to ask Prince Lucius, but he'd known no more than her.

She looked over to her right, seeing the silhouette of the prince lying on his side, facing away from her. The evening had been pleasant enough, but it was clear that both of them were distracted the entire time, his thoughts just as lost as her own.

Well, she wasn't going to get any sleep like these, she decided, and turned to sit up, pushing the blankets off herself. She lowered her feet slowly to the carpet, trying not to wake Lucius. With no light, she tried to remember where her clothes had ended up in the process, but stopped as the blankets shifted, and she turned to see the prince rolling over to face her.

"You can't sleep either," he said.

Ana sighed. "No," she said, "I was thinking I'd go to the training field and smack a dummy for bit. Try to tire myself out."

"You'll just be more exhausted tomorrow," Lucius said, then after a second's hesitation, sat up and said, "I was told by my mother to not tell anyone, so promise you'll keep it a secret and I'll tell you what happened in the garden."

"So you lied to me when I asked," Ana said.

"No, I just didn't tell you everything," Lucius said, "I don't know most of it either, but my mother will blow her lid if she finds out I let it get out."

"I didn't think the queen got angry," Ana said.

"Oh, she does," Lucius said, "She doesn't shout or threaten, or anything like that, but she gets angry. And she's much scarier when she does than anyone who is screaming and stomping their feet. So?"

"Okay," Ana said, "I won't tell anyone."

"Alright," Lucius said, "Assassins came after my sister in the garden."

Ana turned to face him at that. He likely couldn't see her face, but she was shocked at that. "Assassins? How'd they get in the castle?"

"Apparently came in disguised as gardeners," Lucius said, "They didn't kill her, but they did kidnap her. Your parents and brother, along with a few others, went after them only minutes later. My mother followed with over a hundred men."

"What happened?" Ana asked.

"My mother and her men came back," Lucius said, "My sister, as well as your parents, were not with them. When I asked, my mother said that my sister is with Link and the others, but they are going to be gone for some time. So I can only assume they saved her and took her into hiding until the assassins' masters are found."

"I see, that would make the most sense," Ana said, "And she wants to keep it quiet because there might be an informant in the castle."

"I think so," Lucius said.

"Well, that's a bit of a relief anyway," Ana said, "I didn't know why my parents suddenly took Lance with them. It must have been a spur of the moment thing, grabbing anyone who was close by."

"Afraid you were getting left behind?" Lucius asked.

"It's not like that," Ana said, "It's just..."

"Just what?" Lucius asked.

"I don't know," Ana said.

It was a complicated feeling. Her parents were not the type to brag. When she was a girl, in Ordon, they were gone more than home. But when they were home, they as loving and attentive as any family could hope for. And her grandparents, Uli and Rusl, took care of herself and her brother when they were gone.

But she could see the way the other adults looked at them. It wasn't just respect, but borderline worship. Of course, they told her the stories when she asked. The things they had done. But the stories from them always felt incomplete, like there was something missing.

And when her parents came home, of course they were asked the things they did, and the stories they told were the same, like they were missing something, and yet no one ever asked. If that was all there was to it, they were just soldiers hunting bandits and the like.

Yeah, they were soldiers, working directly for the queen, that much she understood. But that didn't explain why there was a gods damned statue of her father in the central square of the capital. There were three there, in the center of the fountain in the central square, arranged so the figures were standing back-to-back in a circle facing outward. Though their features were plain, deliberately so, Ana recognized one the first time she saw them.

It was her father. The stature, the build, down to how he rested his hands on the hilt of his sword when he put the point on the ground. And the tunic he wore. The statue's wasn't green, obviously, but she'd seen it in the basement, on the display dummy near where her parents stored their weapons and armor when home. It was old, torn, and full of holes, but it was the same.

She knew the second statue now, after having known the queen for this long, because that's who it was. The statue was a young woman with long hair in a gown with the royal crest on the skirt, and the large ornamental shoulders that had gone out of fashion before Ana could even remember. It was the queen when she was younger. She held no weapon, but hand one hand crossed in front of her chest, and if one got close enough, they might be able to make out the image of the golden triangles on the back of her hand.

The third statue was one she still didn't know. Another man, the statue towered over the other two, standing with arms crossed and dressed in full armor and a cape. Though the features of the face were still abstract, she always felt it had a vicious glare that followed her whenever she was in the square. For some reason, it reminded her of Damien, though he was far too young to be the one depicted, and he did not have that kind of glare.

According to the story, the man depicted was named Ganondorf, and while he was honored as a hero to be so depicted here, the story was that he had been executed following the invasion of the Blighted Men, having a past too terrible to be forgiven.

Ana had idly wondered if it could have been the same Ganondorf the legends spoke of as the King of Darkness. But she dismissed that as childish foolishness. The man would have to be over four thousand years old at that point, and that was simply absurd.

So why the statues in the first place? You don't honor normal soldiers for just doing their jobs, much less put them beside the queen herself. But in the end of the battle with the Blighted Men, the invaders had broken and fled as a golden pillar of light shot up into the sky some distance from the battle. Supposedly, that was where these three had been fighting the enemy's leader. She was slain and the army immediately broke and fled.

But what exactly happened there? Apparently only the queen, Link, and this Ganondorf knew, and none of them were talking.

And that was what bothered Ana, what wasn't being said. And now her parents were gone again after only having just returned, and this time her brother was with them.

She'd known she wanted to be a knight from a young age. Probably the first time was when she'd seen her father and brother out in front of the house. Link was teaching Lance how to use a sword. She could hear the loud banging of their wooden training swords and also Link's reprimands to Lance's mistakes. But Lance was four years older than she was. At the age of fifteen, he was off to the capital, for basic training and to be squired to teachers who would take what Link had taught and hopefully hone it to the point he'd be ready for knighthood himself.

And she was just barely old enough then that Link agreed when she asked to show her a few things. And she remembered getting so angry at him. He taught her the same way he taught Lance, but she swore she remembered Link striking Lance much harder when he messed up, that Link was going easy on her. And that made her angry, because she thought that he believed she wouldn't make it, that she'd give it up after a while.

So she yelled at him, told him she wasn't a little girl anymore, and that she hated him for trying to protect her. Then she called him a coward. She would never forget what came next. The next thing she saw was his fist, then she was staring into the sky and the two figures standing over her were blurry and hidden by stars.

"I was going easy on you," Link had said once she was sat up and no longer dazed. They'd taken her inside and now her mother had made an herbal concoction she dipped a cloth in and now dabbed at Ana's already impressive black eye, which would help both with the pain and disinfect where the skin had been broken.

"I was going easy on you because you are a child, whether you want to believe that or not," Link went on, "You're remembering how I was teaching Lance once he was older, I'd already been teaching him for some time and he was better able to defend himself. You're not ready for that."

"I'm sorry," Ana whispered.

"Don't be sorry," Kilishandra said, "Learn from it. As mad as you were, you weren't going to learn anything. Keep your temper in check."

Ana looked up to where Link was standing, his back to them as he looked out the window. "Are you mad at me?" she asked, afraid to hear the answer.

"Mad? No," Link said, turning to her with a smile, "As a matter of fact, I'm proud of you for wanting to learn. But part of learning is patience. It's going to take time, and I don't intend to give you more than you can handle."

"You hit really hard," Ana said, wincing as Kilishandra dabbed at her eye again.

"Oh, your father can hit a lot harder than that," Kilishandra said, "He was just trying to wake you up. I've seen him when actually means to hurt people. He can knock a grown man in full armor clean off his feet with one punch. Trust me, he barely tapped you."

"But you're also not crying like most children would be right now," Link said, "You are tough for a girl your age, so maybe I can stop going so easy on you."

In that moment, Ana felt a warmth in her chest. Something like pride, she supposed. But she did have to ask, "What is it like, when you actually want to hurt people?"

"Bad phrasing, mom," Link said, looking at Kilishandra, but then turned back to Ana, "Hurting people is not a good thing. Wait," he put up a hand, "Rephrasing that. Okay, hurting innocent people is not a good thing. Yes, I hurt people, and I kill them, but only when they're bad. Or when there is no other way, like when they're trying to kill me."

"How do you know if they're bad?"

"That's the hard part," Link said, "Sometimes it's really hard to tell. For what it's worth, there are people that I wish it could have been different, that I regret having to fight. So, you want to keep learning this, to fight, and to be a knight?"

"Yes," Ana said.

"All right then," Link said, "I'll teach you everything I can, but it's going to be tough and will hurt, and you'll just have to be strong enough to get through it."

Maybe it was simply being the youngest child, or maybe it was the fact she was always left behind. Afraid of being left behind, like the prince suggested? No, she didn't think so. She blamed it more on the fact that once she came here, to the capital, and began her more formal training, she heard the talk. All anyone could talk about when she first arrived was that she was Link and Kilishandra's daughter. And it was strongly suggested that she was going to be fast-tracked to captain or even higher because of that connection.

Her father had taught her to fight, but she ultimately wanted to stand on her own. She didn't want to be "the hero's daughter" all her life. Lance didn't seem to have this problem, or if he did, he didn't show it. Maybe he enjoyed the perks of their parents' legacy.

But as for Ana, what she was afraid of was being forever lost in their shadow. And if she told someone this, all she'd get is a reminder that she was only sixteen and had a long career ahead to distinguish herself. She was still just a squire, and at least two more years before she made knight-errant.

But if she could draw the Master Sword, that would be something she'd genuinely done on her own. But the legend said only one strong enough could wield that blade. That was why she had worked herself so hard, had built herself into the physical condition she was in, and still she couldn't budge it.

"So these assassins," she said, turning to face Lucius, "Any idea who they are?"

"That I wasn't told," Lucius said.

"But if they kidnapped the princess, rather than kill her, then she must have been the bait for a trap," Ana said, "You've got me curious about this now."

"It needs to stay quiet," Lucius said.

"I'll keep my mouth shut," Ana said, "But I'm definitely not sleeping now. I think beating on a training dummy is the best idea."

She stood up, reaching for the lamp she knew was on the bedside table. Finding it, she lifted the glass casing from the wick, and with a snap of her fingers, a small flame jumped into life from her thumb which she used to light it. As light filled the room, the prince squinted his eyes against the sudden glow.

"I didn't know you could do that," he said as Ana replaced the glass over the wick.

"My father might be the one who taught me to use a sword," Ana said, waving her hand and extinguishing the flame on her fingertip, "but my mother is a sorceress. She taught me a few things too."

"Does doing that hurt?"

Ana looked at her thumb, where the flame appeared, and rubbed it against her index finger, feeling the tough burn callus on the end of it. Lucius probably never noticed, even as intimate as they were, because it was just one spot. Her hands were tough with callused skin in general, all that time working with her sword had seen to that. She remembered the early days of working with the blunted metal training sword, designed for becoming accustomed to the weight of such a weapon, and her father had kept pushing her, even when she could barely grip it through the pain and blood. But her hands always healed, and always tougher and able to go further the next time.

"It did at first," she said, referring to both these things though she didn't say that, "but not anymore."

"Sounds like a lot of things in life," Lucius said.

"Does it?" Ana whispered, "I wonder..."

She picked up her clothes from the floor, starting to get dressed, yet now already she was again thinking about what the prince had just told her, that the princess was with her parents now and in hiding. Just like all the other stories, there was something missing there. Something that didn't feel right.

* * *

Princess Zelda had felt more spirited, being fed and moving, but already that spirit was starting to wane. She had been walking for what felt like hours along the riverbank, and everything still looked the same. The wide banks and tall trees went on as far as she could see. She still held on to the fishing spear she'd made, one cooked fish still impaled on the blackened tip, her meal for later.

Other than the running water of the river, she could hear the buzzing of insects and singing of birds in the trees, but no signs of human life. The sandy riverbank was at least easier to walk on with her bare feet. She thought back to her lessons as a child, thinking that the reason the riverbanks were so wide was likely because it was Summer, the dry season here. Even that ran the previous night was nothing for this kind of place. In the wet season, it was likely the river rose all the way to the tree line along the banks.

It was still somewhat surreal to think that she was so far from Hyrule so quickly. Those lessons seemed so long ago and so far away now. She still felt as though she might be dreaming, that any moment she'd wake up back in her bedroom in the castle. That she'd see those familiar faces again. And that once again her greatest fear would be the day her mother would step down and she'd have to take the throne herself.

So quickly those childish fears seemed as small as they were, when she looked among the trees, and more than once thought she saw something moving, only for the shadows to vanish when she looked again.

But her mind kept wandering back to those fears. And memories of how she reacted. Around five years ago, her education had begun to include the more political aspects she'd need to understand as an adult, and she had been learning of negotiation tactics and diplomacy, both relating to internal nobility and foreign nations. She'd been sixteen or seventeen at the time, around the age most noble daughters were getting betrothed to their future husbands, if not married outright.

She remembered reacting very negatively to the idea of a political marriage. Maybe it was the childhood stories she had read all the time that vilified the notion, or maybe it was genuine fear that she might have to marry a man she'd never even met, but she'd stormed out of the lesson, angry and refusing to hear more.

She'd still been such a child then, she realized now. She'd wandered the castle, trying to avoid anyone that might be looking for her, and she'd eventually found herself in the memorial hall. Portraits of the past rulers of Hyrule hung from the walls, lined up in order of their succession. She had looked up at the portrait of her mother, thinking how even when she was younger and had poised for it, she had such an air of power and authority. How could a childish princess like her live up to that kind of legacy?

She had walked a bit further, looking up at the portrait of her grandmother. Her mother's mother, and the ruler of Hyrule before her. This was a woman the princess had never met because she had died decades ago one winter. The current queen had been forced to take the throne at the absurdly young age of fourteen, and was scarcely an adult when the Twilight Invasion had occurred. She wondered what kind of person her grandmother really was.

Footsteps on the stone floor caught her attention and caused her to turn, to see, rather to her surprise, Prince Malcolm, the queen's father, and widower of the very woman she'd just been thinking about.

"Grandfather," she said, turning more fully to face him.

"Skipping out on your lessons, I hear," he said, but his voice was gentle, and so was his smile as he leaned on his cane.

"My mother never married," she said, "I don't see why I'd have to, or even bother."

Malcolm's cane clicked as he moved closer to her. "You're hardly the first teenager to be against the idea," he said, "In your mother's case, it's more that the necessity never arose. I'm certain if she'd had to, she would accept it."

"But how could a person do it?" she asked, "Marry someone they've never met? Someone they don't care about and will just end up hating for the rest of their life?"

Malcolm stopped in front of her, taking a deep breath and letting it out slowly with his eyes closed for a moment. "It's more the duty of a ruler to look after their people. If a marriage can prevent a war, save thousands of lives, is that not worth it?"

"That's..." the princess started, only for her grandfather to reach out one hand, gripping her shoulder.

"And besides, those children's stories fill your head with fantasy," he said, "They vilify the idea, but political marriages do not always have to be bad things. And they can even lead to real love and happiness."

"How would you know?" she demanded.

Malcolm slowly turned his head, looking up at the portrait of his now long deceased wife, then turned back to Zelda. The look in his eye was more serious than she'd ever seen him, but it was with a great sadness in his voice as he said, "Because your grandmother told me she loved me every day."

She really was still a child back then, she thought as she walked beside the river. Those problems seemed so insignificant now, she could hardly even believe that had been her. Of course, after her grandfather said that, she'd felt terrible for some time, regretting that she'd spoken to him like that.

If she could go home, she'd apologize to him again.

She'd keep going for as long as she could, she decided. She'd need to find shelter before it was dark, and she doubted she'd be so lucky again. After noon, she'd find food for an evening meal, and find somewhere she could spend the night.

But as she thought this, she came to a stop as a bestial roar filled the air ahead of her, and she felt a grip on her chest as real fear reasserted itself.

* * *

Link looked up at the sound of the roar in the distance. "Damn, that's closer than I like," he said.

The other members of the group looked up from where they'd stopped to fish and eat. Lance rose to his feet from the fire, walking over to where Link was. "I think that was a Lynel," he said.

Link nodded. "Around here, must be a Spotted Lynel, too," he said, glancing at Lance, "Striped Lynels are the biggest and meanest ones you'll see around Hyrule. Spotted ones are half-again larger and almost three times the weight of a Striped. And their temper is about ten times worse."

Damien approached the two of them from behind, looking up as another roar echoed over the river. But then another roar began before it was finished. "Two of them," he said.

"Yeah," Link said, "Probably two males fighting over territory. We're just going to stay away from that entirely."

"I've never seen a Lynel," Areil said, walking up beside Damien, "We don't have them in the desert."

"Count yourself lucky," Link said, "They tend to avoid populated areas in Hyrule, but these out here haven't learned to fear men. If you have to take one down, you need preparation. Set a trap, lure it in, then hopefully kill it before it can fight back. If you have to take one on directly, you need at least twenty men to bring it down, and there will be casualties."

"And just to top it off, they're strangely resistant to magic," Kilishandra added from where she sat, "Though whether its a genuine resistance or they're just that crazy tough, I couldn't tell you. But I struck one with a lightning bolt once and it barely even slowed down."

"If someone actually hunted one alone, he'd have to be either crazy good or just plain crazy," Link said.

* * *

Princess Zelda ran for the treeline as the roars came closer, and she feel the ground tremble under her feet from impacts nearby. She stopped, leaning around a tree in time to see them come into view.

Several trees fell on the other side of the river as massive bodies smashed through them. The branches sent splashes of water nearly ten feet in the air as the combatants came into view.

Lynels were strange creatures by all stretches. Quadrupedal bodies like like horses, but legs like great cats, each paw ending with vicious claws capable of ripping through all but the heaviest of armor. But from where the horse's neck would be, they instead had upright torsos like men, with two arms that once again ended in catlike paws and razor sharp claws, and atop their shoulders were the heads of lions, with thick manes around their necks, and mouths full of teeth as long and sharp as swords.

These were Spotted Lynels, standing nearly twenty feet from head to foot, and the shaking of the ground under their feet said they likely weighed over a half a ton each. The name came from the fur pattern on their horse-like bodies, yellow with black spots covering them from back to tale.

Zelda couldn't help but be awed as the two gigantic beasts struck at each other with fist and claw, roaring loud enough to hurt her ears, and crashing together, each trying to bite with those massive fangs. Their struggles, turning about each other took them into the river, smashing the fallen trees under their feet, the trunks snapping like twigs under their weight and water erupting in geysers from each stomp.

She'd also read that they were intelligent for animals, capable of using rudimentary tools and weapons, and especially smart ones even figuring out the bow and arrow. These two had no such instruments, and continued striking at each other with fang and claw. One suddenly reared up, striking out with the claws on its front feet and raking them down the chest of the other, with roared in anger, charging forward and pushing the first with enough force to topple it onto its side.

And as soon as it was down, it was over. The fallen struggled, trying to get back to its feet, but the other was on top of it, pinning it to the ground with its full weight, and leaned down, biting its sharp fangs into the back of the fallen's neck.

Zelda gasped as it tore a massive chunk from the fallen's neck, the fallen crying out in pain, it's struggles almost immediately growing weaker. The victor put one foot on the fallen's head, pushing down as blood spurted from the wound, and smashed its head on the ground, blood splattering as its skull shattered under the force, spilling its brain across the riverbank.

The victor threw its head back, letting out a roar even louder than before, announcing its victory to the jungle. Then it stepped off the body of its fallen opponent, and sat down on its knees before leaning down and sinking its fangs into its opponent's flesh and ripping a large chunk out, chewing loud enough for Zelda to hear from where she was, and she could see the blood staining its muzzle.

Shaking her head, she decided she needed to get out of here, and do it quietly, thanking every god that might be watching that it was so distracted and confident in its own authority. As quietly as she could, and as fast as she dared, she crept away into the trees.

She breathed a sigh of relief as the sound of the river faded. She didn't want to go too far from it, as it was the only reliable source of water she had, but at least for now, she'd try to keep going north through the trees and cut back to the river later.

She nearly screamed when a shape emerged from the bushes head of her, but caught herself before doing so. The figure let out a sharp whistle, and leaves rustled above her, and more figures dropped down around her.

Zelda's heart felt like it stopped in her chest. They were human. Narak surrounded her. There were at least eight of them, but there may have been more she couldn't see. Dark skin and hair, and skin seemed to shine in the light coming down through he branches, as though they were covered in some kind of oil. They wore nothing but waist-wraps that concealed their lower region, but all were bare-chested, showing off various levels of muscle and fitness. Two were women, dressed the same as the men, their breasts on display without any shame.

But what caught Zelda's eye were the ornaments. Necklaces and bracelets made of teeth, both animals and human, and sharp white splinters inserted directly into their skin in decoration across their arms, chests, and even faces. The one standing directly in front of her had six horizontally through his nose, the sharp points visible on either side, and would have pieced directly through both nostrils to do so. Another had three each through his eyebrows, and still others used them as nipple-piercings.

And all of them held weapons, most with spears, but two had what looked like stone knives. As Zelda looked them over, one of the men smiled, noticing her eye, and lifted the knife to his own chest, slowly dragging it across his skin. A line of red appeared in its wake, as if just to prove even though it was stone, the edge was razor sharp.

Quiet as a whisper, one stepped up behind her and struck a blunt branch across the back of her head. It took a moment for Zelda to realize she was on the ground, the cool feeling on her cheek and taste of dirt in her mouth being what restored some of her senses. Some words were said in a language she didn't understand, and she felt something wrap around her waist, then she was in the air, tossed over one of the hunter's shoulder as easily as a child.

Not far from this event, the stranger that had been following Zelda arrived to see her being carried off. He had to circle wide to be sure he didn't alert the Lynel to his position and missed the actual blow, but now he realized what had happened.

"Well, that didn't take long," he muttered, "I guess I shouldn't have left you one your own after all. But if they're taking you alive, I know where you'll end up. I think it's time to pay a visit anyway."


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter 8: The Man of the Jungle**

The slamming door echoed seemingly forever in the miles of empty palace halls as Emperor Maximilian pulled it shut hard behind himself. He had told his guards to wait outside because the resident of this suite of chambers was one they would not understand. There were rumors that she was his personal concubine, and he preferred that over the public learning the truth.

The front room of the suite looked as one would expect of a sitting room. Like his own and his sister's suite, several chairs and a dining table near the center, and bookshelves lined with tomes of history and even fairy tales of heroes and wizards. Without saying anything, Maximilian crossed the room to the door on the far side, stopping to knock. "It's me," he said loudly so the occupant would hear him.

There were several clicks as at least four locks were released one by one, then the door's latch clicked, and it opened just enough for an eye to peek out the crack. "You are alone?" a girl's voice came from inside.

"As always," Maximilian said.

The door swung open, the girl already turning away to walk back into the room. "Lock it behind you," she said as he entered. He did so, sliding each of the latches back into place.

The room inside was lit by four lamps hanging from bare walls, and there was no furnishing save a large iron cauldron, empty now, atop a fire pit, and several tables on the other side of the room covered in bowls and bottles filled with gods-knew-what horrible chemicals and concoctions. There was also a stack of firewood for the fire pit and several large kegs filled with pure water, all meant for the unholy rituals of the occupant.

The girl appeared no more than fourteen or so, but Maximilian knew her to be much older. She dressed in a loose-fitting black robe, which he also knew the inside was lined with dozens of pockets that she kept many more of the chemicals like those on the table in vials within. He could hear the glass of the vials rattling softly as she walked.

Like his sister, she was also very pale, like one who did not often step into the sun, though in this case it was more by choice, and it made her raven-black hair stand in stark contrast, especially when strands fell across her face like the legs of a spider wrapping across her.

She was likely the most dangerous person in the palace.

"Sibette," Maximilian said, and held up the book he had retrieved from the palace library, "What do you know of necromancy?"

She eyed the book in his hand. It was bound in old, tattered leather, well worn around the cover edges. Likely hand-written as well, she decided when she saw the symbol branded on the front. It was an image of a raven, clutching a struggling snake under its talons while pinching behind its head with its beak. She was well familiar with that symbol. It was used in ages past as the symbol of witch hunters. She didn't need him to tell her that the book was a journal of an ancient hunter, who very likely put down details on how to identify and fight against witchcraft and necromancy both so that such knowledge would be passed down.

"More than the average person, not as much as a true necromancer," she replied to the emperor's question, idly tracing a fingertip along the rim of the cauldron as she walked past it.

"According to what I read here, it can manipulate flesh to create monstrosities," Maximilian said, "The younger and more innocent the flesh, the easier it is to manipulate."

"Ah, this is about the missing women," Sibette said, picking up a wooden bucket from beside the table and lifting the lid of one of the kegs.

"You know about that?"

"I make a point to keep an eye on events of my potential rivals," Sibette said, and scooped water from the keg into the bucket. She then turned, walking back to the cauldron and poured the bucket into it. It was barely any to the large pot, making only an inch or so on the bottom. "The white masks appeared very suddenly, conducting their rituals. Skinning people alive and performing sacrifices of what was left. Now they're kidnapping pregnant women, and you want to know why."

"That's right."

"That makes two of us," she went on, "Their rituals seem random, unguided, though they do have real power. This sudden change in their behavior has more purpose behind it. The women are likely already dead, or will be soon. I doubt they can be saved."

"If what this says is true," Maximilian said, tapping the book with two fingers, "That younger flesh is easier to manipulate..."

"You are correct," Sibette said, "It is the unborn children they are after, not the mothers."

"But for what purpose?" Maximilian asked.

Sibette licked her lips, looking away from him as she thought. "Necromancy can animate the dead, cause corpses to rise up, but they are less than even beasts," she said, more to herself than to him, "Their existence is mindless agony. Pain unending. They have no idea where the pain comes from or why, but they are driven with a single goal: To bring an end to their pain by spreading it to others.

"There is no magic that can truly resurrect the dead. A soul cannot be restored to its body once it has fled. This is forever the failure of necromancy and why the wizards of old outlawed its practice. But if a necromancer is after the most viable of all flesh, that of unborn innocents, could he…?"

"Could he resurrect someone?" Maximilian asked when she trailed off. "And if so, who would he go to such effort for?"

"I don't know enough of necromancy to say whether it's possible or not," she said, "But if it is..."

Sibette turned back to him and lifted the bucket toward him. "Fill the cauldron with water. I will gather what I need and we shall see what I can divine."

Something no other person alive would demand of the emperor, but Maximilian took the bucket and did as she ordered. He had paid a great and terrible price to secure the witch's service years ago, but her divinations had been worth it. Originally, he had been infuriated to discover that the visions were too abstract, too vague to build real plans on. Brief glimpses into the future that seemed useless when they could not reveal troop movements or even identities of the people depicted. But they had been useful for warning him of betrayals, imagery of a snake hiding among his own men, or potential allies that could be brought back to the empire's side. He was left to dissect and solve the puzzles of the visions himself, but that had been far more useful than not.

So he went to the kegs and hauled the water, one bucket at a time, to the cauldron, slowly filling the large pot. While he did so, Sibette went to the back tables, gathering bottles and jugs, ingredients for the task. Necromancy wasn't the only forbidden form of magic in the world. The black arts she practiced would have her burned at the stake in most countries, even in this one if she were discovered.

The most dreadful of the powers she possessed was her ability to manipulate a person's mind. She could trap them in a waking dream and they'd see her as anyone she wanted. A friend, a family member, even a lover, and with this the weak willed could be manipulated to do anything. She could even cause them to see their true friends as enemies, make them kill even their own friends and allies to protect her.

She had attempted it on him when they first met. But Maximilian had come looking for her at the time, out in the bog she had hidden away in, and he had prepared carefully. He'd known what she would do, studied the old journals of the witch hunters carefully, so he'd entered her hut alone. Because none of his allies were there for her to try to send him at, he knew that most of the people he'd see would be fully illusion. She'd tried to disguise herself as his sister to manipulate him, but she made a severe error of judgment, and picked the wrong perfume. He saw through her illusions by the smell.

She'd been impressed. Very few had ever broken through her illusions, and only one other by a smell. But once she knew he was there for her powers of divination, she'd lowered her guard and been more talkative. And she named her price. A truly horrific price.

She appeared to be fourteen now, but she'd looked to be in her fifties when they first met. One of the black arts she possessed was to extend her own life by draining it from others. Each life she took in such a way gave her back a decade of her own youth, though in appearance she aged more rapidly than normal. The lives he had given her would give her another thirty years or so before she needed more.

If he had not already secured his passage to Hell for the lives he ended in the war, this deal must have guaranteed it. There truly was a difference between killing in battle and cold-blooded murder. He'd seen hundreds of corpses, piled up and burned, or impaled on the stakes he favored, but what he saw her do made his skin crawl. She may have been the one who killed them, but their lives were on him.

But he'd come this far, there was no going back now, and no reason to let her services go to waste.

He filled the pot about two thirds of the way up, the same as their previous sessions, and then retrieved several logs from the pile of firewood, bringing them back to insert them into the fire pit beneath it. He then took a fire-kit from his pocket, using some of the kindling inside, along with his belt-knife and piece of flint, to strike the fire. In a moment, he had a decent blaze going and the cauldron was heating. It would have to be near boiling before Sibette could begin.

He could hear her, pulling stoppers from the bottles at the table and sniffing the contents before replacing the stoppers and setting some aside, while putting others into pockets inside her robe.

A few minutes and steam was rising from the cauldron. Sibette at last turned from the table, walking back to it as Maximilian added two more logs to the fire pit. Next came the worst part of the process.

Sibette took a bottle from her robe, pulling the stopper and pouring some into the cauldron. How she could so perfectly measure the amounts, or if that was even necessary, Maximilian did not know, but he knew the smell was awful as soon as the liquid hit the hot water, a green color spreading through the clear water in the cauldron. It didn't smell like anything else he knew of. Even the smell of rotting corpses on a battlefield was something he'd gotten used to, but he could never get used to this.

And then she poured in a second chemical, and then another. Each of these were terrible things. Snake blood, poison, nightshade, and a host of other things he preferred not to think about. A handful of something dried and ground up, he didn't ask, and another moment of this, and the fire beneath the cauldron suddenly flared, though nothing had touched it. Black smoke started to rise from the liquid. A vent was in the ceiling for this very reason, so they would not suffocate on it.

Sibette lifted her hands, wrists crossed, then spread them wide, and the smoke parted, revealing color and images within.

The image showed a grave, nondescript and with no tombstone. The mound of earth showed the body was not buried deeply. And then it parted, a hand reaching forth from within.

"It seems my hunch was right and a necromancer has found a way to defy the laws of life and death," Sibette said, "Using the unborn flesh of his victims, he has found a way to bridge the gap between death and the world of the living."

"Can you tell who the necromancer is bringing back?" Maximilian asked.

The body burst forth from the grave, the image turning, his back to them, and before him rose more figures from the ground, with rotting flesh and visible bones through their skin.

"Himself," Sibette said with a hint of surprise in her voice, and then the image turned again, showing the figure from the front, a white mask covering his face with six other figures in the same masks behind him. One of the figures was smaller than the others, the size of a child, but the others seemed to be three men and two women. "He is a member of the white masks, if not their leader."

"Who are they?" Maximilian asked.

"You know I can't see that," Sibette said, "I only saw your enemies in the war by their crests in the visions. The mask is these people's crest."

Maximilian growled under his breath. That was true. He'd even been the one to know those crests, not her.

The vision turned again, showing the rotting creatures rising in ever greater numbers. "The necromancer will raise an army of undead, likely intended to finally take your lands by force."

"So they're going to make a real move," Maximilian said, "We'll dig up the graveyards, burn all the remains, smash the bones to dust. That should slow it down."

The view panned around again, showing the undead army and another riding to clash. The army carried a banner with a golden dragon as the crest. That crest was Maximilian's own family crest. It was the imperial army. And the undead army dwarfed it by a massive number.

"The empire does not have the forces to face this threat alone," Sibette said.

"We have no allies," Maximilian said, "The only other nation that might be able to help is Hyrule, and they don't have the numbers."

"Numbers alone will not win this battle," Sibette said, the view changing again, revealing a figure in green with a blue sword in his hand facing the white-masked necromancer. "One person in the right place can make the difference. Slay the necromancer and his army will fall."

The view changed, showing more figures with the green-clad hero. Men and women of all shades and sizes. And then appeared the other white-masked figures. Then suddenly a dark wave appeared behind the heroes and rushed forward washing into the undead army.

"The beasts will come and fight the undead as well," Sibette said.

"Animals?" Maximilian asked.

"From the south," Sibette said.

"You mean Narak," Maximilian said with a tone of disgust, "They eat their own dead."

In the vision, the green-clad hero struck down the necromancer with his blue sword, and the undead army crumbled away to nothing.

What happened next was so fast, Maximilian wasn't even sure he'd seen it at all. A dark shadow rose, blocking the view completely, then two slits appeared within the shadow, revealing a red light within. They were eyes, and he felt their gaze upon him.

Sibette screamed, backing away from the cauldron suddenly and falling backward onto the floor. With a flash, the vision vanished, the smoke closing and becoming nothing but smoke.

Maximilian leaned down, offering her his hand. "What was that about?"

Then he noticed Sibette was shivering, her face covered in sweat and her hands trembling.

"It saw us," she whispered.

"What?"

Sibette looked up at him. He'd never seen true fear on her face before, but that was what he saw now. "A demon, more ancient than any of us can comprehend," she said, "It appeared in the vision and… It knew it was being watched… It will appear in this world and… and..."

"And what?" Maximilian demanded.

"Demons are not the be trifled with," Sibette said, finally taking his hand and letting him help her to her feet, "Even a wizard like the King of Darkness would be on his guard when facing a lesser demon. But this one is no such lesser..."

She turned to Maximilian, grabbing at his tunic. "And it is hungry," she went on, "It will devour this world and everything in it. Nothing will survive."

"Where will it come from?" Maximilian asked.

"I don't know, it blocked the vision before I could see," Sibette said, "But it is somehow linked to the necromancer. A final scorched earth plan if he should fail, perhaps..."

"The visions aren't set in stone, you've told me that before," Maximilian said, "Even the slightest action can change the result. I'll just figure out how the necromancer intends to summon it and prevent that."

"Yes, it must not enter this world," Sibette said, "If it does, there will be no hope for any of us."

* * *

Princess Zelda's head ached from the strike. She also felt dizzy from hanging upside-down over the shoulder of the man carrying her. All the blood was rushing to her head, but she realized they hadn't tied her hands. They didn't think she was a threat. The weight of her dagger was still there on her left wrist. They hadn't even disarmed her.

She could see trees passing by around her, the swaying motion as her carrier walked was making her feel sick. There were at least four of them still around, but none of them behind her captor. She might have one chance. As her vision was steadying, she could see the line of small bumps down her captor's back, his spine easy to follow. She thought back to her youth, and the lessons in self-defense she had been given for years.

"Physically, you are not as strong as most men will be, so you cannot fight them directly," she had been told, "Aim for vulnerable spots, gaps in the armor, or a spot that will do real damage. One of the most effective, if coming from behind, is to strike near the spine."

She eyed the line of her captor's spine again. She remembered how to do it. Don't hit the spine directly, the bones are strong and it takes a great impact to actually shatter or sever the spine. Instead, aim just to the side, with your blade horizontal, so the edge scrapes against the bone as it goes in. It won't drop a tough opponent for long, but will temporarily disable anyone because it'll hurt like hell. Then give the blade a twist to do some real damage.

Well, she was sure they were going to kill her anyway, the only question was how. No reason not to try. She'd never actually hurt someone before, but she'd reflexively stabbed that other woman, her doppelganger, without hesitation. She could do this.

She quickly drew her dagger and drove it into her captor's back, just to the side of his spine as she'd been told. He cried out and she felt his grip loosen and his knees buckle as he fell out from under her. They hit the ground and she twisted the knife hard, feeling the edge of the blade grinding on the bone of his spine, then she pulled it free as she rolled off him, quickly rising to her feet.

The other hunters had turned, moving to surround her. But even as their companion screamed in agony, they moved slowly, almost relaxed. It was as though they still didn't see her as a threat. That would be her one chance, and she quickly darted toward the trees, taking her one opening.

But she stopped as another hunter stepped into her path from behind one of those trees, a grin on his face. There were more all around, out of sight.

Zelda grit her teeth, wanting to scream. She really had no chance to escape.

One of the hunters knelt down by the wounded one, looking at the stab wound in his back.

"Well done, a valiant effort," came a voice from behind Zelda, "But you are still just one girl."

She and the hunters all turned at the sound, to see him. The man she'd met that first night, approaching them. He walked openly, with no fear, and the Narak clutched there weapons, their relaxed atmosphere vanishing in an instant.

"I was expecting to follow you all the way to the temple," the stranger said, stopping about ten feet away from the group, "But they were in no rush, and I'm happy to see you fight for your life, even if it was futile."

Seeing him beside the Narak, it made it clear in spite of his dark skin, he was not of these lands. His skin tone was not as dark as theirs, and he towered over them, rising head and shoulders above even the largest hunter. Seeing him in daylight also highlighted his intimidating visage. A clean-shaven head and face, but strong square jaw and prominent nose stood out, yet even at this distance, she was drawn into his eyes. A dark vision in those eyes that sent a chill down her spine.

This was a man who was ready to kill and would show no hesitation.

One of the hunters shouted at him, brandishing a spear.

"Shut up," the stranger said, and stepped toward them.

The hunter charged with the spear. Zelda almost couldn't follow what happened next. The spear was aimed straight at the stranger's chest, then the stranger had turned it aside with one motion of his arm, the tip harmlessly passing his shoulder. Then he struck with his other hand, a fist going straight into the hunter's gut, doubling him over, and the stranger's first arm rose high and struck down directly on the back of the hunter's neck. Zelda heard the crack even at this distance and the hunter hit the ground, screaming in agony, but twitches going down his arms and legs the only moves he was making.

With one blow, the hunter's neck had been broken.

The other hunters were visibly shaken, stepping back, but then one with a club ran at him. Zelda heard the rush of air as he swung it, the stranger evading it by merely leaning back and letting it pass by his face. The hunter had swung it so hard, he was unbalanced, nearly falling into the stranger as he spun. The stranger then easily grabbing his shoulders and pulled down as he lifted one knee directly into the hunter's back. Another scream of pain and a crack so loud no one missed it, and the hunter fell to the ground, still screaming, trying to crawl away while his legs limply dragged behind him.

He didn't make it far. The stranger raised one foot and stomped down, his hard boot-heel coming down on the hunter's head, and the hunter convulsed and lay still. Zelda gasped, feeling her stomach turn at the result. He'd stomped down with enough force that the hunter's skull caved in and the ripped skin was bleeding profusely with white chips of bone visible ripping through it.

"Oh gods..." Zelda whispered, turning away as her stomach gave way and she vomited what had been the fish she'd eaten onto the ground.

"Who's next?" the stranger asked, looking toward the other hunters.

There was a moment of hesitation, then the other hunters scattered. The one Zelda had stabbed even managed to get to his feet and run, all of them vanishing into the trees.

Zelda turned back to the stranger as she wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. She was trembling. She'd never seen such vicious violence before, let alone someone who could commit such acts so readily and easily. As she watched, the first he'd struck, paralyzed at the neck, was fighting for breath. It was likely a relief that the stranger now killed him with a stomp to the skull, just like the other.

"Time to go," he said to her, "They'll be back in greater numbers."

"Why'd you follow me?" she asked, her voice shaking like the rest of her, "You said you wouldn't help any more."

"Because I wanted to see what choice you'd make," he said, "To see if you'd give up and die, or choose to live. I was going to give you a week, but you have proven adequately which you have chosen. Now follow me."

"Follow? Where?" Zelda asked.

"First to one of my stashes nearby to make you some clothes," the man said, "Unless you intend to walk all the way to Hyrule naked?"

For the first time in a while, Zelda remembered her own state, and quickly drew her cloak tight around herself.

"But why?" she asked, "You said you didn't want any reward I can promise."

"I still don't," he replied, "But there is something in Hyrule I want, and taking you back will get me closer to it."

"What is it?"

"That's not important right now," the man said, "Now, are you going to come with me, or take your chances on your own?"

Zelda swallowed hard. If the Narak found her again, she doubted it would go any better. And the lynels had proven to her there were even more dangerous monsters in the jungle. The odds of making it out alone were against her.

"Okay," she said, "I'll go with you."

"Good," he said, smiling for the first time since she'd met him, "Now, my nearest stash is about an hour from here. So keep up."

"You have them all over the jungle then," Zelda said, following him as he started walking.

"That's right," he said.

"Oh, my name is-"

"The Princess Zelda," the man said, "I know who you are. You may call me Bannon, for what it's worth."

"Not your real name, I assume," she said.

"It's as real as I choose it to be," Bannon replied, "Now come. We need to be away from here before they find courage in numbers."

* * *

He'd been true to his word. This "Bannon" led Zelda some distance before they came to a small ravine. Descending into it, Zelda surmised it likely became a lake when the river rose. Now it was bare, but Bannon approached a large rock to one side. It was a boulder about as large as a human man was tall, and equally as wide. She'd guess it weighed at least four or five hundred pounds, but likely even more.

So it was with a bit of a shock when she saw Bannon lean his shoulder into it and with a grunt, shift it to one side and kicking a smaller rock under its edge to prevent it from rolling back. It was without ceremony on his part, and once it was moved, he turned to the hole in the rock wall behind it, stepping inside. Zelda moved closer, leaning in just as light flashed within. Bannon had lit an oil lamp that he placed on a table within.

"Wow..." Zelda whispered.

There was an entire living space within. A bed in the far corner, a dining table with one seat, and shelves full of furs and bottles of solutions she was not sure of. There were also several crates, one of which Bannon opened the top and reached within.

"Here," he said, and tossed something from the crate to her. She caught it and looked in the light. It was wrapped in paper, but opening that, she found dried meat. "Thought you might want something a bit more filling than the fish you had earlier."

"Wait, you were watching me at the river?" Zelda said, feeling her face grow hot as she remembered standing there without her cloak, fully nude and in the open as she was spearfishing.

"Of course I was," Bannon said, closing the box, "And so were four other Narak hunters you didn't even know were there until just now."

"Why didn't they attack me?" Zelda asked.

"Because I killed them."

The way he said it, it was so flat and emotionless. So that was at least six people he'd killed this day alone. She thought about the man she'd stabbed, and wondered if he still lived. It was so heavy a thought, as if it were physically weighing her down, and yet this man had killed so many more for certain. How does one become so cold?

As she ruminated on this, he had walked past her and kicked the small rock out from under the edge of the boulder, ducking back inside as the boulder rolled back across the entrance. On one hand, it was good to know no one would walk in on them without warning, but she also knew she couldn't possibly move that boulder to get out on her own.

"Now, let's see about this..." Bannon said as he opened another crate. From within, he drew out a large piece of folded leather.

"How were you able to get all this?" Zelda asked, looking over the shelves and bottles stacked upon them.

"I've been out here a very long time," Bannon said, "This is just one of my stashes. I have sixteen more, scattered across the jungle, and all stocked roughly the same."

He laid the leather out on the table, unfolding it and laying it out smooth.

"Now, I'm not a tailor," he said, "This isn't going to be the most comfortable outfit, but it will help protect you from the weather and road, at least."

He looked up at her, then drew his knife and ran it down the leather. The extremely sharp blade cut through it like paper, the loose cut falling to the floor over the table edge. Then he cut a circle into the center of the piece that was left.

"Come here," he said to her, "Lose the cloak."

Oh. Of course. She should have expected that. Reluctantly, she undid the pin at the neck, dropping it to the floor. Without preamble, he picked up the leather and dropped it over her head, lining up the circular hole to fall around her neck so the leather piece fell around her shoulders.

What followed was a long process of pulling, cutting, and stitching the leather to fit her. She'd never had an outfit made this way. The tailors she knew would take her measurements, ask her about materials or fits she wanted, then she wouldn't see more until it was finished. She was rather impressed by Bannon's dexterity with a needle and thread in spite of the relatively enormous size of his hands and fingers.

"How long have you been out here?" she asked as he worked.

"Nearing a decade, at least this time," he said, "Every so often I make my way back to civilization to see how things are going. Last time I went north, the emperor of Riastad had died and a civil war had started over the power vacuum."

"Oh, yes," Zelda said, "I had heard the news that finally ended a few weeks ago."

"Did you also hear who won?"

"I think it was the emperor's son. The messenger said his name was Maximilian, if I'm remembering correctly."

"So the imperial dynasty continues for one more generation at least," Bannon said, pulling the leather tighter around her and threading the needle through it to stitch the side together, "All it takes is one weak link to break a chain like that."

"You said you came out here to get away from kings," Zelda said, "Why keep tabs at all?"

"Because when I go that far, I like to be aware of who is going to try to cut my head off if I step out of line," Bannon said, "And there are several people who would do it even if I don't. I have made enemies in my life."

"Seems that's the case even without trying for some of us," Zelda said quietly, thinking about the woman with her face and the others in the white masks.

When she'd stabbed the woman, she'd done it purely by reflex. The self-defense practice that had been honed into her. She hadn't thought about it. But now after watching what Bannon had done to those hunters, the memory came back to her. What would she feel now if she had killed her?

"Have you killed many people?" she asked, her voice soft, almost not wanting to hear the answer she already knew she was going to get.

Bannon looked up from his stitching to her face. His eyes meeting hers, for just a second, and she saw that cold edge within them. She had seen eyes like that before. Eyes that had a deadly edge to them, as if there was a vicious animal just barely being held back, waiting to be unleashed. Yet, something else there, behind that edge. A deep and powerful sadness, trying to be hidden from her gaze.

His eyes were like Link's. That older knight who answered directly to the queen herself and no other.

But then that sadness was gone, hidden even more completely behind the deadly edge.

"I've fought in several wars," Bannon said, turning back to the stitching, "I lost count of the number of people I've killed long ago. Turn, I need the light."

She turned as he indicated and he pulled another section of the leather tighter across her body and started stitching.

"You get hardened to it after a while," he went on, "When you see enough death, life starts to lose its value. You reach a point when the only time life is valuable is when you find yourself staring down the blade of a sword aimed at you, or when someone you care about is. But for others, you simply stop caring.

"But kings and queens, they never care in the first place. They sit safe in their castles while they send young men to die in wars. Young men fighting for causes they don't believe in or don't even understand. They're ultimately nothing but resources to be spent for the cause. The cold arithmetic of war is all their leaders care about."

"You're wrong," Zelda said, thinking about the memorial her mother had built. All those names on the walls and ceilings, of every soldier who had died in her name. "Maybe some don't care, but there are those that do. That maybe care too much."

"And how would you know?" Bannon asked.

"When we reach Hyrule, I'll show you."

Bannon smirked. "I'll look forward to it."

They fell into silence as Bannon worked. He cut the extra leather from the steadily growing outfit before repeating the process to add sleeves and leggings to the outfit.

While Bannon might not claim to be a tailor, she was impressed with the fit once it was done and she tugged at it to make small adjustments. It certainly wasn't the most fashionable, being layers of crisscrossing leather from different animals and of different colors, but it fit snug enough to not shift while walking, but he also hadn't stitched it so tight she couldn't get it off. The leather was also soft enough to not hinder her movement, but tough enough it should protect against scratches from branches and thorns.

He didn't have the means to make her a real set of boots, but did also make some leather wraps to tie around her feet to help protect her in that regard. It was a relieving feeling to be properly clothed again. And the dried meat tasted better than the fish had, certainly. And it had at least been salted, giving it quite a bit more flavor.

Bannon had gone back to the crates, and begun filling a bag with more of the dried meat and some other foods, and tied it shut once it was full, dropping it onto the table in front of Zelda.

"That's yours to carry," he said.

Zelda took the rope tie, pulling at it to test the weight. "That's heavy," she said.

"Strictly speaking, there's enough food in there to last a month," Bannon said, "if it comes to that, anyway. Also, this."

He reached to one of the shelves and plucked a leather waterskin from it, sitting it next to the bag.

"Now, with the time it took to make that outfit, it's already dark outside, so we'll stay here for the night," he said, "You can have the bed. Enjoy it, because it'll be the last one you sleep in for a while."

He stepped past her, moving toward the entranced.

"Where are you going?" she asked.

"Outside to relieve myself," he said, "You need to?"

"I'm fine," she said, feeling her face growing hot again.

He grunted, and pushed at the boulder blocking the entrance, slowly moving it aside, pausing for a moment to listen before pushing it further out of the way. He was certain no one knew of his stash here, but there was always reason for caution in these lands.

"Thank you," Zelda said as he stepped out, "for helping me."

"We'll see if you feel that way after the march tomorrow," Bannon said.

After a moment he returned and allowed the boulder to roll back in front of the entrance again. Zelda rose from her seat, looking over at the bed, then back at him. He had pulled a spare blanket from a nearby shelf and unfolded it over himself as he sat down on the floor near the entrance, his back to the wall.

"I suggest you sleep," he said, closing his eyes, "You're going to need it."

"Right," Zelda said, and stepped to the bed, pulling up the blanket.

She hadn't been expecting a fine mattress, but when she lay down on what she was sure were just leaves stuffed into a blanket, she wondered if the floor might be softer.

* * *

The Sacred Realm was a land separate from the world at large, but also a part of it. In a way, it could be seen as another dimension, but it was intrinsically linked by three gateways. Everything about these worlds was in threes, it seemed. One gateway lie in the ruin of the Temple of Time, which had stood in the capital city of Hyrule more than four thousand years earlier. This gateway had an effective lock, which could be sealed by the Master Sword being placed in the altar. Even with the sword gone, however, it was no easy path through for those who did not possess the magical talent to open the portal themselves.

The second was buried beneath the ruins of the capital city of Darimar, far across the ocean to the west of Hyrule. It was sealed more permanently by a magic circle crafted in ancient times by Darius, the wizard hero of an ancient age who had later become the Sage of Light known as Rauru. Crafted of the finest silver, the magic circle would hold its power for eons, if it ever faded at all. The entire city had been destroyed in the attack of the necromancer, Tharkus, who had come in a flying fortress that he had dropped on the city, killing nearly everyone in the city in the resulting earthquake. But the gate had been buried, likely forever, as a result.

The third gate was far to the north of both of these, connecting the worlds inside the mountains known as the World's Crown. In the arctic lands far to the north, these mountains rose high into the sky, and were impossible to cross on foot. The air became thin as one went up, and without magical aid no mortal being could cross them. If they did, they would see an incredible sight. Crossing the peaks, the mountains rapidly descended again. The mountains were shaped as a ring with a deep valley inside, and a climate that defied its location in the arctic.

A temperate forest lay within the ring, kept warm by the magical barrier surrounding it, complete with songbirds, deer, and other animals from much warmer climates. The gateway was connected to a stone circle near the center of the forest, in a clearing beside a lake. Also in the clearing were six cabins constructed of wood, each the private residence of one of the living sages. This was their secret hideaway, hidden from the world, where they found what freedom from their duties that they could.

The gateway was the link by which they freely traveled between the two worlds, the stone circle a lock preventing passage for any who did not bear the symbol of a sage.

It was through this gateway that Sheila, Sage of Light, now emerged with a flash of white light. There was no one waiting to greet her, as expected, the other sages all busy with their own tasks at this time. Wasting no time, Sheila clutched her silver staff as she walked, one of the few things her predecessor had left for her upon his death. Silver was one of the most effective conduits for magic, thus it was the ideal material for long-lasting magic, such as the seal on the gateway in Darimar. As a staff like this, Sheila could channel her own magic through it for remarkable effects. It did not increase the potency of her magic, but allowed her to focus it to incredible degrees. It might not sound like much to a layman, but with the staff, she could focus the power of a lightning strike into a needle-sized point, which used correctly, was far more terrifying than a massive hit across a large area.

But now as she entered her private cabin, she leaned it against the wall inside the door, walking through the kitchen and dining area, to the wooden tub in the back, across from the bed. With a snap of her fingers, a stream of steaming hot water poured into the tub through a tube leading outside. Goron engineering, provided by the Sage of Fire. Sheila undid her robe, letting it fall to the floor, and stepped out of her boots. Another moment and she'd shed her underclothes and slowly entered the tub, letting out a small gasp at the heat of the water, but that turned into an enormous sigh of relief as she sank into the steaming water.

Even as she bathed, however, her mind was racing. She was certain the darkness in the Sacred Realm was the spirit of Demise, a demon more ancient than surviving records of history. In fact, the more she delved into the legends, the more convinced of it she was. The ancient civilization that had existed in the same era as Demise was gone, though its remnants could be traced to many of the modern civilizations, such as Hyrule, the Empire of Riastad, and even her homeland of Darimar.

She was not a true Hylian, but she was not unrelated. Evidence suggested that Hylians were descended from both the human race and the near-extincted species known as elves. A species that was very likely to be extinct in just a few more generations. She herself was a half-blood, with far more elvish blood than any Hylian, and her own father had been one of the last full-blood elves left in the world, and even that was debatable over the thousands of years it had taken for elves to gradually vanish.

But Sheila had come to believe that this ancient civilization, if they had not been the ancient elves, had been ancestors of the species. In fact, more evidence was suggesting that the elves and humans were both descended from these ancients, and the Hylians might even be the two species that had evolved along different lines becoming one people again.

But all of that was just theories that she could not prove, and hardly mattered. What was important was that a hero of these ancient people had defeated Demise and slew him. Demons do not die easily, however, and Demise had enacted the curse that had resurrected him in mortal form eons later.

But Demise's mind had been destroyed, or so they'd thought. This was why the Sages had seen it as potentially a good thing to separate the spirit of Demise from the mortal body of Ganondorf. In the aftermath, Ganondorf had continued the same path for some time, making it seem like a wasted effort, but in the end, the man had found himself, his own soul, when he met the girl he would raise as his own daughter.

But what had been pulled from him in that separation? A creature with no mind. The Demise she saw in the Sacred Realm was a beast of pure instinct. With no thoughts to guide it, it fell to basest aspect of survival: The need to feed.

Pieces of it had broken off, taken the force of shadows resembling the monster known simply as Ganon, in his different forms. Some even had intelligence. But now they were rejoining the original shadow, and it showed no such sign of that intelligence. Demise was hungry, and while it was held in check by the Sacred Realm itself for now, it was not a problem that was simply going to go away on its own.

So what had happened to Demise's mind? According to the legend, it had been trapped inside the Master Sword itself, where it would slowly fade into nothing. She'd examined the blade herself multiple times, and saw no sign of a presence within. The sword did seem to house a strange sentience of its own, but nothing like a demon. It was how the blade chose its own wielder, and how it guided them toward whatever destiny it saw for them.

The sword had been lost for some time, only for Darius to rediscover it in the Sacred Realm some eight thousand years ago, during the Ancient War. Sheila closed her eyes, reaching into the memories of her predecessor. There were a great many. The man had lived far longer than a mortal should. But she knew where she was going, back to that time, eight thousand years ago.

"Oh gods..." she whispered, her eyes shooting open.

Darius had found two swords there. At the time, he believed them to be the balance for one another. The Master Sword, which he at the time dubbed Silver Fang, representing light and good, while the other was a sword with a blade black as coal that seemed to suck away the light around it.

What if Demise's mind hadn't vanished into the Master Sword? What if he'd managed to escape, but in his weakened state, he'd been forced to find another form to inhabit? Something that on a battlefield would be very close by?

As Sheila came to this realization, many thousands of miles from where she was, the very sword she thought of hung from the hip of one oblivious to this knowledge.

The being known as Zero surveyed the handiwork of the white masks. It wouldn't be long before imperial soldiers saw the smoke from the fire, so he had to look fast to pick up the trail if he didn't want to have to deal with them.

It was the same as all the others. Bodies that had been skinned and then killed, leaving behind the corpse and taking the skin with them. An entire family in this farmstead. Looked like four adults. A married couple, the parents of one of them, and four children.

Zero was never the type for mercy, and the evidence the White Masks left behind gave him no reason to make them the exception. He fully planned to kill every last one of them he had to in order to find Leselle.

But the sword in question was hanging from his belt. Grip and blade as black as coal, with a single blue gem in the pommel.

And Zero did not notice when that gem opened, a red eyeball visible within, that looked around the room, and quickly closed again, having surveyed the current situation, and continued to bide its time.


	9. Chapter 9

I'll just say it here, this chapter is easily the most gruesome thing I've ever written, but it is also the most gruesome this story will likely be. I don't foresee anything else in this story reaching this level.

**Chapter 9: The Necromancer Revived**

Leselle's head was heavy. She was still dizzy from whatever they had drugged her with. Her eyes stung as torches flared to life around her. The people in the white masks were there. They were lighting more torches, placing them in evenly spaced brackets on the walls. There were four large fires in braziers set in a square around a lowered area in the floor in the center of the room.

She could hear something nearby. It sounded like crying, very close by. It made her head swim to turn, but she looked over her shoulder and felt her breath catch in her throat. There were women sitting very close by. The youngest looked even younger than Leselle, maybe fourteen or fifteen, and the oldest she could see looked to be in her forties. And there were many more beyond these, to far for her to see details of their faces.

What they all had in common was the visible bulge in their stomachs. They were each pregnant. Some looked as little as two or three months, and the older woman near Leselle looked almost eight months. Leselle looked down at her own stomach, and the round three-month bulge there. She couldn't even think of what they'd want with so many pregnant women, but already she felt a chill running down her spine, knowing it could be nothing good.

Nearby, there was the sound of steel sliding from a sheath, and she looked up to see a polished metal blade glinting in the torchlight as one of the masked men placed it on a table next to the wall.

"The last light has been lit," one of the masked men said to another, "It will soon be dawn."

"Perfect," another masked figure said, this one with a woman's voice, "I'll inform Vaati that we're ready to begin."

* * *

It was dawn in Hyrule. The queen woke when her lady-in-waiting knocked at her door. She had a great deal to do today in spite of the situation, and rose from her bed. Everything seemed normal as she splashed cold water on her face to wake herself up, and her lady helped her dress for the day, in a more formal gown than the day before.

As she slipped her arms into the sleeves and her lady laced up the back, the queen stopped, looking out the window to the first rays of the sun appearing over the mountains to the east.

"Is something wrong, your majesty?" the lady asked.

"I don't know..." the queen said, "I just had a really bad feeling all of a sudden. Something terrible is about to happen..."

Down in the courtyard, Ana was still at the training field, having nearly knocked all the straw from the dummy she had been viciously attacking with the blunted training sword. Now she stopped, panting for breath and wiped the sweat from her eyes. She had been working so hard, and sweat drenched her body, but she felt icy cold. It was something else she was feeling.

"What is that?" she whispered, the icy cold causing an awful knot in her stomach.

Far to the east, at the same time, so far east that it was nearing midnight, Link sat awake by the edge of the camp the group had made for the night, his turn on watch. There was a tingling in his spine, his instincts warning him, but he knew the camp was safe still.

Soft footsteps made him turn, and he saw Lance awake and walking toward him.

"It's not your turn yet, son," Link said softly.

"I can't sleep," Lance said, coming to a stop beside where his father sat, "I just have this strange feeling. Like an icy chill all over but I don't know why."

Link looked over to where Kilishandra sat nearby. She was sitting cross-legged on the ground with her eyes closed. A few minutes ago, she had said she felt something, and needed to focus to try to locate it. As he looked at her through the darkness, he could make out her face thanks to his dark vision. He saw her eyes clench tighter and she grimaced, then she twitched, her entire head shaking just once. A bead of sweat ran down one side of her face.

"Kili?" Link asked, "Are you okay?"

Her eyes opened and she gasped for breath, as if she'd been holding it for some time. Then she turned to Link. "I sense something, but I'm not sure what," she said, "It's far away. Much further than I should be able to feel it. It might be all the way back in Hyrule."

"Any guesses?" Link asked.

"It's evil," Kilishandra said, "I've never felt something as dark as this. Not even Cain compared."

"I'm not sensitive to magic like you, but I feel something," Link said, "Apparently Lance does too."

"Yeah," Lance said, "It feels bad."

"I wonder how many people in the world are having bad feelings right now they can't explain," Kilishandra said, standing up and walking over to them.

Link glanced over at the sleeping forms of the rest of the group. They were stirring, shifting, not sleeping peacefully. Even they were having bad dreams, likely from this feeling.

"It can't be coincidence," he said, looking back at Kilishandra, "Walpurgis Night is only a few months away."

"I would understand this feeling on that night," she replied, "But not this early before it."

"You mean that day-long eclipse every few years?" Lance asked.

"Every few years, the lines between worlds become thin," Kilishandra said with a nod, "It's like the tides shifting, but on a cosmic scale. Typically only wizards and sorcerers such as myself concern ourselves with it. But that night is when the lines are at their thinnest. We typically see an increase in undead around the date as a result. Spirits and ghosts find it easier to maintain their form, and even weaker spirits can become visible and affect the world of the living. But it is that night that certain rules of magic can be bent or even broken."

"Problem is this early, anyone trying to do something that even I can feel, they're not benefiting from it," Link said, "Which means they're either fools..."

"Or they're preparing for something much bigger," Kilishandra finished.

"The princess," Link said, "Her abduction was a ruse. The entire point was to get us away from Hyrule."

"I think you're right," Kilishandra said.

"Then what is their actual goal?" Lance asked.

"Something that they'd want Hyrule's most powerful spell caster out of the way for," Link said.

"Not to mention the only man who could rally the people possibly even more effectively than the queen," Kilishandra added.

"Point is whether they actually know who we are or believe the exaggerated stories, like the one about my fight with Ganondorf adding extra miles to the great ravine," Link went on, "but either way, they're afraid of us."

"I think it's time we call Sheila," Kilishandra said.

"Who's Sheila?" Lance asked.

"The Sage of Light," Link said, "Old friend of ours. But as a Sage, she can't interfere in the battles of men. She can't help us unless this is something truly a threat to the world at large. And even then, we don't have means to contact her directly out here. Which unfortunately means we have to wait this out for now."

"I see," Lance said, his momentarily raised hopes knocked back down, thinking again about the feeling running down his spine.

Innocent people were going to die this night.

* * *

Leselle's heart raced as more of the masked figures entered the chamber. There were so many, their shadows casting ominously on the walls as they circled the room. In a matter of moments, the masks were all around them, the figures wearing loose white robes concealing their figures.

The only one that stood out from the others was the size of a child, less than four feet in height, and yet, the way he moved to the center of the room, near the lowered area in the floor. Now that her vision was clearing, Leselle could see it was shaped like a bowl, and there was a strange liquid in it. Green in color, but there were small things floating in it, and she thought she might be glad she didn't know what they were.

The smaller figure spoke, and his voice was not that of a child, but nor would she call it a man either. In fact, his voice had a strange tone to it which made her question if it was even human, but she couldn't describe exactly what it was.

"My brothers and sisters, I am so proud of all of you," the small figure said, raising his arms to his sides as he slowly turned around the room, "In the past months, you have had to give up much of your former lives. Your families, your homes, your wealth, but you have taken the final step to prove your faith. And now, this dawn, I share with you my commitment."

Leselle couldn't take her eyes from him, and with shock realized the blue color of his hands were not gloves, but his actual skin.

"This ritual we perform this dawn will bring another into our midst," the figure went on, "This messiah will guide us as the holy night approaches, and show us the path to true salvation. By his hands, our Lord will enter this world to reward we faithful, and devour the wicked."

He continued, but among the masked figures, Six's mind wandered. She didn't know how Vaati kept it up, the whole preacher thing. But he'd somehow managed to turn these people into what were basically slaves. He'd told her of it once. The common people, they didn't want to think for themselves. Those that do would climb the ladders of business, military, art, or other means to raise their status, and then they'd no longer be among the commoners. People with real ambition did not stay common for long. They were dangerous to attempt to influence, because for most, their first and only loyalty was to themselves, and they would carefully weigh everything presented to them for the sake of themselves.

There were also among the commoners the ones that were perfectly satisfied with their lives as farmers and workers. All they wanted was a peaceful life to do their jobs, raise their children, and this was enough for them. These people wanted to be led, but they had their loyalties. These were the men and women that rallied to the call of their nation and queen when threatened. They wanted to be led, not to lead themselves, but when their lives were disrupted, they would nearly always choose the familiar over the new. Attempting to influence them was a fool's errand, even more so than the previous group.

The third type of commoners were the ones Vaati could easily influence and gain the loyalty of. They were the bitter ones. The hateful. The lazy. The ones who looked at those wealthier and stronger than themselves and despised it. The ones who saw the hardworking self-made rich as thieves and the born wealthy nobles as undeserving spoiled brats. These were the people who made no effort to improve their lives, and sought only a reason to blame others for their misfortunes. Like the second type, they wanted to be led, and would gladly march against those they already despised. Whether by wealth or religion, the mere promise of dragging their betters down to their level was usually enough to inspire them to action, like a swarm of ants bringing down a proud stag through their sheer overwhelming number.

There were always exceptions to these rules, Vaati had told Six, but most peasants one met would fall into one of these three categories. The second was by far the most numerous of the three, so in the early days they'd had to move carefully, seeking their recruits one at a time, but as their numbers slowly grew, they could bring in more and more. The young who were not yet set into their lives were especially vulnerable to conversion at this point. It didn't matter if they were actually poor or not, so long as they could be made to believe that the wealthy were the enemy of the common man, they could be turned.

Adding a religious flavor only helped the process. In fact, Vaati had told her that having an actual god to reference was not even necessary. Any dogma that people believed in to the point they'd ignore evidence presented by their foes was a religion in its own right.

He had done this before, Six had remarked at the time. In response, Vaati had chuckled, saying that he was very old at this point. It had taken many attempts at starting such a religion before he found success, and he had repeated the process several times, and at this point, he had it down to an art. Including recognizing those who would be immune to his efforts to convert them.

But the single greatest danger, and one they must always be on guard against, was what typically undid cult leaders and corrupt politicians both. That was when such people started to believe their own lies. When you are manipulating the common people to think they are working toward a goal, the last thing you wanted to do was start believing in that goal yourself.

So now she stood there patiently, just a few steps behind him, waiting for him to finish. The speech was for the others' sake, because they still needed them, at least for now. She kept her mouth shut.

"...and so with this dark act, we begin the final steps to bring light to this cruel world," Vaati said, lowering his hands, "We take this dark path so that others do have to. We honor the sacrifice of these women so that others not need take their place. Find your eternal paradise in heaven for this, and fear not for the end of your mortal lives."

This cause cries of fear and wails from the kidnapped women. One was not far along in her pregnancy managed to get to her feet even with her hands bound behind her back and ran for the front entrance of the room. In a flash, Six was on her, having crossed the entire room with a single leap, grabbing her by one wrist and dragging her back. The woman's struggles meant nothing to Six's far superior strength.

"I see we have the first volunteer," Vaati said as Six brought the woman to the edge of the bowl in the center of the room. Then he raised one hand, "Brothers and sisters, line the others up. You know what must be done."

There were more cries as the masked figures descended upon the women, pulling them to their feet. Some required two to hold them still as they struggled, while others were quiet, seeming that they had accepted their fate, or were so incredulous to what was happening that they had just stopped reacting.

One of the masked figures retrieved the blade from the table on the far wall, walking to the front of the line where the woman still struggled in Six's grip. She screamed, fighting harder as she saw the blade, light glinting from the metal as the figure held it up in front of her.

"Sister, we thank you for your sacrifice," Vaati said.

The next scream rang in the ears of all gathered as he plunged the knife into her pregnant belly, cutting a wide slash directly into her abdomen. Blood poured out, falling into the bowl and mixing with the strange green liquid there. To the horror of the other women, with his free hand, the figure reached into the still screaming woman's stomach as he pulled the cut open wider with the side of the blade. Her entrails were falling out as he fished about, searching for his intended prize, and reached in again with the blade to free it.

Then it was there in his hand. The blood-covered, undeveloped fetus from her womb. With one final slash of the blade, he cut the umbilical cord and tossed the fetus into the green liquid. Where it landed, the liquid began to bubble around it, and the fetus rapidly dissolved, turning the green liquid red.

The woman's struggles had ceased. She'd passed out, and blood loss would ensure she never woke again. Six pulled her unconscious form aside, dropping her to the stone floor out of the way. The next struggling and screaming woman was pulled to the side of the bowl. Vaati repeated his line, and the process itself was repeated.

It was a bloody, horrific affair, and took over an hour to work through all the kidnapped women, even though it took only minutes with each. Six returned to her place just behind Vaati, on the other side of the bowl, and watched through it all.

With each unborn child added to the bowl, they were rapidly dissolved by the strange liquid, which was rising and filling more of the bowl, and the bubbling did not cease.

Vaati had told Six some of what the liquid was. It was a combination of rather unusual ingredients. Something tied closer to what he called the Black Arts than true magic. Six knew little of what these Black Arts were, only that the truest practitioners of them were the witches, not sorcerers. And he'd also told her that without a necromancer's knowledge that had been gifted to Vaati for this very purpose, this ritual would do little more than make a disgusting melt of flesh and acid.

As she watched, some of the masked figures raised hands to their faces, lifting their masks just enough to hold their noses. Six was rather pleased at that moment to have no sense of smell. The bubbling of the liquid was growing more intense with each addition made to the bowl. The original green color of the liquid had vanished, being turned entirely red by the blood.

The liquid rose to nearly the rim of the bowl as the final pregnant woman was moved to the edge. She was not screaming, but her eyes showed her abject terror at what she had witnessed, and she knew was coming for her. But Vaati suddenly raised his hand. "Stop!" he said, halting the blade and causing the others to turn toward him.

"That is enough," he said, reaching into his robe for an inside pocket, "Now witness the power of God."

From his pocket, he brought a small gem, purple in color, with a visible white light within its facets. He tossed it into the bubbling liquid. What was bubbling instantly became a froth, shooting into the air, then falling again. This caused many oohs and awes among the masked figures gathered, all instinctively backing up to not be splashed.

The liquid settled into the bowl, the bubbling ceasing altogether, and then something else moved. Something just beneath the surface, then it rose and the liquid fell across it. It was a human skull, the size of an adult. Six didn't know what she was looking at. There had been no such bones in the liquid when it began.

The level of the liquid began to fall as the skull rose higher. It was startling to see, as the skull floated up over the surface, then from the liquid, a spine rose and with a loud crack connected to the back of the skull. Next to float up was the jaw, which snapped into place, then opened wide, as if screaming with no voice. More bones followed, as ribs attached to the spine and arms snapped into shoulders, the skeleton rising to stand on freshly made legs and feet. The liquid then rolled up, climbing over the bones like a sentient slime.

Six watched as it rose into the skull and changed color. She then realized the horrific stew was becoming flesh. Eyes appeared in the skull's sockets, and the slime rolled up over the skull and became the red color of muscle, then another layer rose over and changed into pale human skin.

The process was affecting the entire skeleton, as she saw the slime transform into internal organs. Heart and lungs formed before her eyes, and more, then were covered by the red layer of muscle, for skin to follow afterward. As slow as the sacrifices had been, this seemed incredibly fast in comparison, though it took over ten minutes to finish.

Then the bowl was empty, the red liquid completely vanished, and a man stood in its center. So completely had the red liquid become his body that he wasn't even wet. He had no body hair to speak of, even his head being completely bald, but perhaps there had been no material to spare, but Six could see his distinctive features in the light. His chin came to a sharp point, and he had a hook nose, and when he opened his eyes, they were narrow and sharp, and dark brown, nearly black.

He was thin, but did not appear starved. Six wondered if that was how he appeared before, or a result of the ritual and amount of material it had created.

Slowly, he took a breath, filling his lungs with his first, and held it for a moment before exhaling.

"The first breath I've taken over eight thousand years," he said, his voice barely above a whisper.

Those gathered around looked to Vaati, unsure how to react. Vaati did not take his eyes from the man, who now lifted up his left hand, looking down at it as he flexed his fingers. Then, rather suddenly, he brought his right hand up to his left wrist and dug his fingernail viciously into his own flesh. A second later, a red line of blood could be seen on his left forearm.

"I live. I truly live," he said, then raised his voice into a laugh that echoed in the room, throwing his head back and raising both arms into the air as he screamed, "Flesh and blood and bone! I am alive!"

He laughed again, maniacal but also elated. Finally, he lowered his arms, turning directly to Vaati. "You have fulfilled your end," he said, "I will keep mine."

"We have a room prepared for you," Vaati said, "There will be clothing and equipment there for you. Let me know if you require anything else."

"Food and drink," the man said, "There's nothing I want or need more right now."

* * *

"This is the necromancer?" Six asked as she walked behind Vaati.

"Yes," Vaati said, "A truly disgusting art, but effective. I am glad this is the last time I'll have to taint my hands with this vile work."

It was about half an hour later as they approached the chamber that had been set aside for their new addition. No guard had been left at the door, but it wasn't as if the cultists could have stopped him if he turned hostile. Vaati was certain he could handle him, but better if it didn't come to that.

He knocked at the door once, and a voice from within said to enter.

Six opened the door, allowing Vaati to enter first. The necromancer was seating at a small table, a plate in front of him with a collection of food, mainly fruits of different varieties, but also a loaf of bread and dried meat, and next to it a bottle of wine.

"Sorry, I expected you to be finished by now," Vaati said.

"Don't be, you just don't understand," the necromancer said, and took a bite from an apple, the crispy crunch audible to all. The necromancer closed his eyes, inhaling sharply, his head turning nearly completely sideways and trembling as he savored the flavor, and only then started chewing.

It was nearly a full minute of chewing that single bite before he swallowed it, then looked over to them.

"I haven't eaten in eight millennia," he said, "If I tried, it all tasted like ash. Real flavor, this is like heaven for me."

He had dressed in a simple shirt and trousers, and white bandages were wrapped around his left forearm where he had cut himself with his nail.

"To be frank, I didn't know if the ritual would actually work," Vaati said, pulling out the spare seat and sitting himself across the table from the necromancer.

"I didn't either before I died," the necromancer said, "But the afterlife is a wealth of knowledge for one such as I. Necromancy is the magic of death, and with my knowledge, I did not have to face my final judgment. I instead remained in Limbo, learning all I could. It was a theory that I know all too well is true: Necromancers never truly die. We just wait until we can step back across the line."

"Everything I've ever learned said that there is no magic that can resurrect the dead," Vaati said, "Interesting to know that's wrong."

"It's not wrong, as I have not been resurrected," the necromancer said, "I have been reincarnated. Rather than being returned to my original body, my soul now inhabits an entirely new one. In fact, I wasn't altogether certain it would work. But I believed strongly enough that it would, and I trusted you enough to let you capture my soul in that gem."

"So your soul was here the whole time..." Six whispered, but not quietly enough for him to not hear.

"Indeed," the necromancer said, "Vaati and I concocted this plan long before you came into existence, and we already crossed the hurdle of bringing my soul back from Limbo decades ago."

"At a great cost that many would not be willing to pay," Vaati said.

The necromancer smiled and took another bite of the apple, then said around it, "There's a reason most civilizations outlaw necromancy. But for those with looser morals, it is power like you've never dreamed. The women were all farmers, peasants, you said it yourself. In this," he paused, looking down at his own hand and clenching his fingers tight as though still testing that they worked, "they've and their children have contributed far more to this world's future than they would have otherwise."

"So what should I call you now?" Vaati asked, "Unless Necromancer is good enough?"

"I've used a few different names over the ages, but I think the one this world knows me best as will suffice," he replied, "Call me Tharkus."

"The name this world knows you as?" Six said, "Doesn't seem bright if you want to lay low."

"Quite the contrary," Tharkus said, "I don't want to lay low. There are people still alive who know me. And when I come for them, I want them to know its me as I look into their eyes and rip their still beating hearts from their chests."

"Well, the first thing you can do is take whatever leash you have in my head and get rid of it," Six said, pointing one finger to her own face.

Tharkus looked up at her, taking another bite of the apple, pointedly chewing for a moment before swallowing and speaking, "That will take time. I am still weak and need rest to build up my strength before I attempt anything."

She took a step toward him, about to shout when he added, "Unless you want to risk dying in the process."

Six growled, but Vaati looked to her. "Let it be for now," he said.

"In the meantime, you should continue the plan for Hyrule," Tharkus said, "I will deal with Link and Kilishandra, though I will need your assistance to get me there."

"Necromancy doesn't cover travel spells?" Six said in a sarcastic tone as she stepped back.

"No, shockingly it doesn't," Tharkus said, "I will also need to take stock and see how I can lure them to where I want them. They are formidable opponents and you have wasted the element of surprise."

"Yet if we were to put Six on the throne, as planned, they could be formidable allies," Vaati said.

"I doubt they would fall for it, especially since the real princess is still alive," Tharkus said, "If they haven't found her yet, they likely will soon."

"Speaking of that, why didn't you let me kill her?" Six asked.

"As soon as that man appeared, you had no chance of doing so," Tharkus said, "I don't know how he's alive… I could have sworn..."

He trailed off, not finishing the thought, and looking away as his mind wandered down that line of thought.

"Who is he?" Vaati asked.

Tharkus looked back to him. "Why, he's none other than Ganondorf, the King of Darkness himself. And as dangerous as Link and Kilishandra are, for him, combine them together and multiply it by a hundred."

"Then he has the Triforce of Power?" Vaati said, "Like in the legend?"

"No," Tharkus said, "I know he sacrificed that to kill Shaklator twenty years ago. I suppose his eternal youth must be permanent. I had actually thought that losing the Triforce would cause him to rapidly age and die. Or perhaps he only started aging again after giving it up.

"In any case," Tharkus went on, "We cannot move on him until we are absolutely sure he cannot win. Even if he is weaker without the Triforce, that man's deadliest weapon is his intellect. The entire time I've known him, he was always thinking much further ahead than anyone else. And not just one step ahead, but closer to ten. Nothing ever surprised that man and everything I tried against him last time failed utterly. I don't care what he's doing, but no one goes near him until I say."

"So long as you remember the deal," Vaati said.

"I told you I'd help you get the Triforce, and I shall do so," Tharkus said, "But I don't want to see my efforts wasted because your people can't follow orders."

"Let me worry about that," Vaati said, "So will we have to find passage to the Sacred Realm?"

"No," Tharkus said, "To all knowledge I posses, the Triforce did not reappear there when it vanished last. So the most likely answer is that all three pieces will re-manifest in persons it deems worthy, just as the pieces of Wisdom and Courage appeared in new generations over the centuries."

"All three of them?" Vaati asked.

"A likely candidate would be the son of Link and Kilishandra," Tharkus said, "But this will require research, and time to find all three."

"If one piece can grant eternal youth, then one is all I need," Vaati said.

"So be it," Tharkus said, "Then for the time, proceed as planned."

"Agreed," Vaati said, turning to climb out of his seat, "Will there be anything else you need before I retire for the night?"

Tharkus glanced over at the bed in the corner of the room. "Something else I haven't had for eight millennia," he said, looking back to Vaati, "Are there any women among those followers who would be willing to join me in bed?"

Vaati almost laughed. "They'll do anything I tell them to. Do you have a preference?"

Tharkus did laugh. "After this dry spell, the only thing I care about is that she be female."

"I'll send one here after you're finished eating, then," Vaati said, walking toward the door.

"No, don't wait for that," Tharkus said, "I can do two things at once."

* * *

Vaati returned to his chamber after giving the needed commands. "Close the door," he said to Six as she entered behind him.

He waited until he heard the latch. Then with a roar of anger, he turned, flipping the dining table over, dumping the books and waiting plate of food onto the floor. With a kick, he sent one of the chairs onto its back, then grabbed the other by its back-rest and threw it into the wall, where it fell to the floor with a crash.

"Necromancers..." he growled in an angry whisper, "Disgusting, vile creatures..."

He turned around, seeing Six with a confused expression, he remembered himself. He took a deep breath, standing up as tall as his small frame allowed and smoothed his hair back into place with one hand.

"Forgive me," he said, "I should not act that way in front of even you."

"He gives me the creeps too," Six said, "Was this deal you made really worth it?"

"I question that each time I have to perform one of his rituals," Vaati said, "First to open Limbo and capture his soul, then to bring you into existence, and now to bring him to life. I have lived for longer than he can comprehend and never dirtied my hands like this before.

"Slavery, if required, I can do. But willing servants are always more productive than slaves. But necromancy is vile in every sense. It's his knowledge of this world I require. If not for my limited time, I would have sought aid elsewhere, but I have so little left."

"Do we really need him?" Six asked.

"Don't worry," Vaati said, "I've already made up my mind. As soon as I have the Triforce, I'll send him right back to hell where he belongs. Then you will also receive everything I promised you."

"But in the meantime, I need to-" Six stopped, turning a the sound of a knock at the door.

Vaati quickly composed himself, straightening his robe and trying to brush his hair back into place again, then nodded and Six opened the door.

One of the masked cultists stood outside, and he bowed deeply before speaking. "Great speaker, forgive me for interrupting," he said.

"It's not an issue," Vaati said, "Has something happened?"

"It's just the matter of the girl you ordered spared, my lord," the man said.

"That's right, I did do that," Vaati whispered, then louder said, "Take me to her."

* * *

Leselle couldn't take her eyes from the bowl in the floor of the room. No trace of the horrific liquid remained in the bottom now. Her heart had finally slowed down, and she felt she had no more tears to shed. To be faced with such a nightmare only to be pulled away seconds from death was no experience for anyone, and this poor girl still trembled, her mind a blank, unable to even think to escape.

After the man who had risen from the gore had been taken away, as well as the small figure and the masked woman departed, the masked figures had begun dragging the mutilated corpses of the other women away. The trail of blood and small bits Leselle dared not identify was still visible, a thick red line in front of the far wall, all the way to one of the side passages.

They seemed to ignore her, until white robes appeared in front of her, blocking her view of the bowl and causing her to look up. It was the small figure and the masked woman who had leaped across the room in one bound.

"Reaction," the small figure said, "She's not completely broken, then. Can you hear me?"

"Why..." Leselle whispered.

"I'm afraid if I took the time to explain why we did this, it would be beyond your comprehension," he said, "But your life is in no danger now. In fact, I've got an idea now that requires you live."

"Why me?" she asked, suddenly desperate to know why she would live while so many others would not.

"Pure luck on your part," the small figure said, "We didn't need another sacrifice. But now you can be useful in another way."

As if to make sure there was no doubt, he knelt down and placed his hand on her round, pregnant belly, causing her to gasp, first at the unwanted touch, then when she was able to see through the eyes of his mask and saw the dim yellow glow beyond.

"No harm will come to you or your child," he said, "I promise you this."

"Then let me go," she said.

"That I cannot do," he said, "You could reveal us before we are ready, and decades of work will be lost."

Something deep in Leselle's heart found its strength again, and she grit her teeth, glaring at him. "My father's going to find you," she said, "And when he does, he's going to kill every last one of you."

"Really?" the masked figure asked with amusement as he slowly stood up, "And just who would your father be?"

Still far from them, in the imperial lands, a lone figure moved tirelessly through the countryside. Zero had found what he was looking for, and picked up the trail leading west. The masked figures had taken their prize and fled quickly for the border.

Little did they know what pursued them. Zero required no food, no rest, and would never stop.


	10. Chapter 10

**Chapter 10: An Imperial Homecoming**

Several days had passed since that bizarre feeling. Gaius had put it from his mind, continuing his trip north and finally arriving in the capital. It was a strange feeling, seeing those walls for the first time in near a decade, to step inside and see the streets had almost completely changed. All the old shops near the gate he had known were gone, replaced with new ones. Some old buildings had been renovated or completely rebuilt. And the streets had been repaved, the old cobblestone apparently removed in favor of much finer bricks, making it much smoother to ride in the cart.

The cart he was riding in came to a stop just inside the gate. Gaius was one of several passengers, and as they stepped down from the back, a small group of guards were waiting to check their papers and give directions. Gaius showed them the letter from the princess, resulting in them quickly saluting, and they gave him directions to the palace.

The palace being the one thing he wouldn't need directions to find, he thought as he walked toward it. It was just as enormous as he remembered, rising high over the rooftops of the surrounding buildings. He'd always estimated the building itself to be nearly a mile in length and half that wide, and was four stories high. That didn't include the grounds, which included the gardens and a small orchard of apple and peach trees.

The size of the palace was not simply for the royal family. It was very much the hub of the city. The courts, guilds, and political parties were all here, and sections of the palace marked off for specific business as well. The halls were always packed, full of people from all walks of life. At least that's how it was during the previous emperor's reign. Walking into the public quarter now, Gaius could feel the quiet emptiness pressing down on him.

It wasn't completely empty, and small groups of people were walking the halls, but the conversations were quiet, and they walked softly. Gaius noted it seemed the courtrooms were still in business, but looking down the halls leading to the guild chambers, they were nearly empty.

With a sigh, Gaius looked for a guard, and saw two standing outside the hall leading to the royal quarter. He approached them, and held up the letter, showing them the princess's signature. "Got this letter a few days ago from the princess," he said, "It says she's expecting me."

"Oh, Lord Gaius!" one of the guards said, quickly saluting, "Yes, all the guards were told to watch for your arrival any day. If you'll follow me, there's a room prepared for you and we'll send word to the princess."

Wow. Gaius had forgotten what it felt like to get formal respect. His boss and coworkers at the bar were friendly enough, but it was a different feeling entirely. He followed the guard through the empty halls, taking several minutes to reach the room in question. Upon entering, he found a lavish sitting room waiting. A round table in the center with six padded chairs around it, with a steaming tea pitcher and two cups waiting. No one else was here, so after the guard bowed and closed the door, Gaius dropped his bag on the floor and took a look around.

This didn't seem to be a private room, and that was confirmed when he walked to the fireplace and saw it spotless. It had not been used in a long while. There were bookshelves around the room, and he casually looked over the spines. Just general history books on one shelf, and works of fiction on another. There didn't seem to be any pattern to indicate a personal taste.

He turned back to the table, wondering if he should help himself to the tea or wait for the princess. At that moment the door opened without a knock. Gaius quickly stood up straight, expecting to bow for the princess, but she was not who entered. Several men walked into the room, standing in a row against the far wall. Her bodyguards? No. There were ten of them, he counted, and then one more entered, and this one he recognized. The blonde hair, swept back, and green eyes over the smooth skin of his face, the posture, all familiar.

"Dravis..." Gaius said.

The new arrival smiled. "So you remember me. I'm honored."

Dravis Colius was his name. Ten years ago, he'd been an upstart son of a count. Exactly the stereotype of a noble brat one expected them to be. He was the fourth son of Count Neiland Colius. That many children and the incoherence started to get really thin. So such a child frequently joined the military, using his family name to rise to the officer ranks quickly and earn a title and stipend.

And they were a pain in the ass to deal with for the older officers. Especially a common-born like Gaius. Dravis in particular had talent, but was lazy. He was the kind of officer who intended to lead from his tent, never intending to dirty his own hands.

"I remember a snot-nosed brat who thought he was a greater warrior than he was," Gaius said, "I remember a lieutenant who thought himself a general that I then busted to private, along with his nose."

When Gaius had told him as such, and blocked the promotion Dravis had been aiming for, Dravis had reacted in a spectacularly stereotypical way by challenging Gaius to a dual. So Gaius, seeing the chance to possibly salvage this potentially good officer, put a wager on the dual. If Gaius won, Dravis would be demoted to private and work his way up the ranks the right way.

And then Dravis had laughed when Gaius tossed the sword aside, instead putting up his fists. His laughter had stopped when Gaius introduced him intimately to the dirt.

"So is it lieutenant again by now?" Gaius asked, "I don't know how to address you."

"It's captain, actually," Dravis said, "Captain of the palace guard, to be specific."

Ah, so that was the silver star on his uniform, Gaius noted. Some of the symbols had changed since his time.

"So then, captain," Gaius said, "What do I own the pleasure of this visit?"

"Word got around that our beloved princess was digging about, looking for an old fossil that had stepped down when his country most needed him," Dravis said, "A coward who has no business here in the heart of the empire."

Gaius eyed the ten men behind Dravis. So that's what they were here for.

"I refused to kill my own countrymen," Gaius said, "If that makes me a coward, then I supposed I am a coward."

Dravis smirked, then shrugged. "Doesn't matter anyway," he said, "You can leave now and I'll tell the dear princess you turned down her offer. You walk away and don't have to suffer for it."

"Oh, so you know the princess offered me my position back?" Gaius said, "So you really don't want to have to take orders from me again."

Dravis grunted. "Damn right I don't," he said, "I fought in the rebellion. I fought to keep our great emperor on the throne that is rightfully his. And I'll die before I take orders from you who ran when we needed you most."

Got him. Dravis didn't know what it was about, since the letter had said Gaius was going to lead a special strike squad, not to be a general again. So this was personal then. Dravis was still nursing that wound to his pride from the dual. He was still an immature brat at heart.

"I'd rather tell her myself," Gaius said.

Dravis shook his head. "Bad choice," he said, "One more time: You leave now, or it's going to get ugly."

"I've made my decision," Gaius said, "I'm not going anywhere."

"Fine," Dravis said, turning and walking toward the door, "I'll leave my boys to it then."

The men behind Dravis stepped away from the wall, several of them cracking their knuckles.

"Just don't kill him," Dravis added, pausing at the door, "After all, we don't want to be responsible for the death of an imperial hero."

"You got it, captain," one of the men said.

The door shut and Gaius heard the lock click.

"So it's that kind of game," Gaius said, looking back at the man closest to him, who was coming around the table toward him, "What's your name, soldier?"

"Private Darren Cragg," the soldier said.

"Is he paying you well for this?" Gaius said.

"A fast-track to lieutenant, in fact," Darren said with a smirk.

Gaius sighed, then rolled his shoulders back, making sure he was look, and rolled his head to one side, feeling the crack as he did so.

"You should have got money for the doctors," Gaius said.

"You think you're fu-" Darren started to say, but was cut off when Gaius suddenly closed the distance between them.

Gaius moved faster than Darren could react, grabbing hold of Darren's head with one hand and pushing back and bending him backwards over the table, slamming the back of his head into the polished wood. The others were moving around the table toward him. Gaius grabbed the steaming pitcher from the table and swung it to the side, hurling the hot liquid into the face of one of his attackers. It wasn't hot enough to do serious damage, but the man screamed as it burned his eyes, and he turned sideways.

Another was coming up behind Gaius, who spun, elbow up and using the momentum of his turn to strike it directly into the man's jaw, then rolled his shoulder back forward, carrying the punch straight into another in front of him.

The rust was already falling away. Gaius had wondered if he'd still be able to fight effectively after all this time, and he already felt the answer. These men were soldiers, but they were trained to fight with blade and bow, not with fists. At least, not to the extent Gaius was.

"_A blocked punch is just a waste of energy,_" Master Huang Xi had told him, so long ago, "_If your strike doesn't deal damage, then there's no point in striking. Focus on your enemy's movements. No one can defend every part of their body at once. Find those weak points, strike when you will do damage, and you can fell any foe. If you can't land a single decisive blow, then you use many blows to chop them like a tree._"

The men had come wearing normal clothes, so there was no armor to work around. As Gaius waded through them, each of his strikes finding home, it became clear that as far as fist-fighting was concerned, they were barely better than brawlers. The openings were easy to find. A kick to a knee here, then a punch to the ribs there. Every strike on a different opponent, and not a single movement wasted.

It was over in just seconds. Groaning men on the floor, clutching their sides, knees, or elbows where he had struck. He'd been careful to not do permanent damage. No point going all out on enemies that couldn't keep up. Now he went to the door, testing the handle. It was locked.

He spun at a roar behind him. Darren was on his feet and had grabbed the glass pitcher, running at Gaius and swinging it like a hatchet. It was easy enough for Gaius to step aside, the pitcher striking the door and shattering, glass raining to the carpet. Darren turned, swinging the now jagged ends of the handle at Gaius.

With one hand, Gaius turned the clumsy swing aside, and with the other delivered a low punch to Darren's stomach, causing him to double over in pain. Gaius grabbed Darren's shoulder, forcing him upright as he stepped back around, placing Darren between himself and the door. Darren looked up, meeting Gaius' eyes for just a second before Gaius lifted one foot and planted a swift straight-kick into Darren's chest, launching him backwards into the door. Wood snapped and splintered as the metal latch ripped out of the doorframe, Darren landing on his back in the hall beyond.

Gaius stepped over him, out into the hall. Now, where did Dravis go? He looked around. If he remembered the palace layout correctly, the guard captain's office would be near the throne room. It might have been moved elsewhere, but seemed unlikely. And that would likely be where Dravis went, so that if this went poorly, as it had, he could feign ignorance by claiming he was in the office with paperwork at the time.

Going by memory, Gaius started down the hall at a jog. There seemed to be no guards this way. The place was lightly staffed due to the small number of people here these days. But from this wing, there was a large set of double doors barring passage from the hallway into the central hall beyond. Gaius pulled the handle, finding it locked as well. Yes, Dravis came this way and had expected at least the chance that Gaius would overpower his soldiers.

Kicking down these doors wouldn't be easy, but finding a way around would take too long. Gaius readied himself for the effort, then stopped. Footsteps behind him, then a scream. Gaius quickly moved to the side, turning to see Darren pass him, swinging something that hit the doors.

Darren was covered in sweat and panting hard, his hair having come completely out of control and hanging across his face, which was contorted in rage.

"You should learn when to stay down, son," Gaius said, stepping further back as Darren turned to face him.

The weapon he had swung was a knife, its blade cutting into the wood of the doors. With a yank, he pulled it free, turning to face Gaius. It was a long knife, closer to being a short-sword, and the way it had cut into the wood of the door made it clear it was damn sharp.

But he was angry and reckless now. No sooner had Gaius raised his fists than the blade was coming at him. Gaius could hear it whistle as the blade cut the air, but he braved it raising one arm. The blade struck his wrist, coming to a dead stop with a metal clang. Darren's eyes went wide, but already Gaius stepped in closer and struck upward with his other fist, straight into Darren's solar-plexus. A hard blow straight to the center of his chest, Darren was forced back, coughing the wind from his lungs in the process. One might think striking solid bone like that would not do much, but at the right angle and with enough force, and it was a damn painful place to get struck.

Darren backed up another step, looking from his blade to the hole it had cut in Gaius' sleeve, and saw the metal glint underneath the cloth. "Steel bracers," he said, "Clever."

He was right. The majority of Gaius' forearms were protected by the metal bracers he was wearing underneath his clothing, made specifically for blocking sharp blades without restricting the movement of his wrists or elbows.

"Next one goes in your ribs!" Darren shouted, rushing forward again.

Young idiot, Gaius thought. He saw the thrust. Sweeping one arm sideways, he turned the blade completely away from himself, causing Darren to spin to the side, and Gaius then lifted one knee directly into Darren's chest, right into the same spot he had struck him before. The wind knocked from his lungs, Darren couldn't cry out, the sound he made more like a dry heave.

Gaius grabbed his wrist with both hands and twisted up, yanking Darren upright, then pulled his hands around backward, now causing Darren to cry out in pain as he lost his grip, the knife clattering to the floor. Gaius then shoved him, forcing Darren back a step and releasing his grip on Darren's wrist, opening up space between them again. Darren's stumble back was cut short when Gaius stomped down, planting his foot firmly on top of Darren's. There was a flash of realization and fear in Darren's eyes as he saw the next punch coming, striking firmly into Darren's jaw but without the ability to back up to lessen it.

Gaius lifted his foot, letting go of Darren's as he stumbled back. Darren felt the wooden doors against his back even as he quickly reached one hand to his mouth, afraid his jaw had been broken. It hadn't been, but he heard footsteps moving quickly away, and looked up to see Gaius had already moved a good ten feet away, but now planted his feet and leaned slightly forward.

"What…?" Darren started, taking one step forward to chase him.

Then Gaius charged with a wordless roar of his own. Darren had no time to react as Gaius closed in on him, then left the floor. A huge leap, his voice an endless roar, Gaius crashed into Darren with both feet square in his chest. Darren slammed back against the door, Gaius' full weight crashing into him at speed, and the metal latch of the doors ripped free of the wood, splinters flying into the air as both doors crashed open and both men hit the floor hard. Darren clutched at his chest, pain all over as he coughed, fighting for the breath that had yet again been knocked from him.

Gaius had landed more smoothly, knowing how to roll his body from that kind of risky flying dropkick. He picked himself up, brushing splinters from the doors from his clothes as he stood.

"Just stay down this time, son," Gaius said, "I don't want to really hurt you."

"Well, isn't that just noble of you."

Gaius looked up. It was Dravis, waiting by the statue of the fallen heroes in the center of the chamber. The statue that told the story of the small number of defenders that had fought against the Bahdi invasion long ago.

"You don't seem surprised that ten men wasn't enough to bring down this old geezer," Gaius said, stepping past Darren toward Dravis.

"Not really," Dravis said, "More surprised that you don't even seem winded from the exertion."

"If you want me, fight me yourself," Gaius said, "You called me a coward, but you're the one letting others fight for you."

Gaius expecting that jab to anger Dravis, but Dravis simply smiled.

"I was hoping you'd say that," Dravis said and reached to the neck of his tunic and started undoing the buttons down the front. "You see, Gaius, I was not idle while you were gone."

Dravis tossed his tunic aside, freeing his arms completely, and also making visible the tattoo that ran across his chest and arms. Near his right wrist, the head of a dragon, with a long serpentine body coiling up around his arm, then around his back, and running down his left arm to its tail. An eastern dragon, the species that looked more like snakes than the ones that used to exist in this part of the world.

"That beatdown you gave me when I was younger did teach me one thing," Dravis said, "That those eastern martial arts you've studied are quite formidable, and without even needing a blade. I've been studying them hard ever since. Even hired a master from the east, beyond the Bahdi lands, to come here and train me. And I have been a very dedicated student."

Gaius smiled, and undid the buttons of his own tunic. "What was your master's name, out of curiosity?"

"Xiahou Yang," Dravis said.

"I don't know of him," Gaius said, dropping his tunic to the floor, "Must be relatively new. Or not worth knowing. Any master worth the title, you'd have to seek him out, not hire him like a mercenary."

Dravis looked at Gaius' own tattoo on his chest. The head of a bull, the snout extending onto his stomach, with the horns up to his shoulders, and the entire head was on fire. He had not actually gotten it as a sign of his training, but to answer the nickname his men had given him in the imperial army. "The Bull of Riastad."

"Insults get you nowhere," Dravis said, leaning his weight on his toes and lifting his hands into a ready stance, "I'm glad you got through my men. Because now I get to hand you your ass myself. I've already made sure we won't be disturbed. The emperor is off seeing to his concubine, and I ordered the patrols to keep this area clear."

"Then I don't have to worry about innocent people getting in the way," Gaius said, raising his fists to his ready position.

"You," Dravis said as Darren stood up behind Gaius, "Go tell the others to stand down, just make sure no one disturbs us."

Darren nodded, even as he still tried to catch his breath, and Gaius heard him turn and walk back into the hallway.

"Now," Dravis said, looking at Gaius.

The wait was over, and with a wordless roar, Dravis charged toward Gaius. An aggressive style, then, Gaius thought, stepping back instinctively as the first punch came toward his face. Easy enough to guard, lifting his own arm not to block it, but to push against Dravis' wrist from the side, turning the strike away from himself.

What followed was a pattern Gaius had executed countless times in his life. First was observation, learning how his opponent would behave. Dravis had every intent of pressing the attack, as a second punch came low, this one forcing Gaius to sidestep entirely to avoid the strike.

But being so aggressive played perfectly to Gaius' own style. He knew the third punch was coming, and knew it would be a wide hook, so he leaned down, the punch crossing over his head, and as he rose, threw a punch of his own, straight up into Dravis' chin.

Dravis cursed, forced back a step, and Gaius pressed his advantage, stepping in for a low strike, but his punch was pushed down by Dravis' hand. And pressing left him open, and Dravis' other fist struck him in the side of the head hard, but he turned with it, lessening the impact, and turned it into a full spin, raising one leg as he came around.

Dravis ducked quickly, the roundhouse kick passing over his head, and this time he pressed, delivering a hard punch to Gaius stomach, just below his ribs. Gaius felt that hit, and was forced back a step. Dravis pulled back one fist, telegraphing too much how much force he was putting into the strike. Gaius saw it coming easily, stepping easily around it and quickly delivering two strikes into Dravis' side below his arm.

And it continued, a deadly dance to anyone watching, barely moving from the spot where they started by more than a few steps. Later, Gaius would admit that Dravis was good. Or at least, as good as a first year student for his own master, Huang Xi, would be. But Dravis constantly over-reached, putting all the strength he could into strikes that would not connect.

To put it simply, Dravis was tiring himself out with wasted strikes. Gaius was the winner before it had even started. He found his opening, stepping closer around an incoming punch, delivering a powerful uppercut to Dravis' ribs, knocking the breath from him, then with his other fist, immediately striking Dravis in the chin, causing his head to jerk upright and back. With no wasted time, Gaius grabbed Dravis' head with both hands, pulling it back down and raising his knee straight into Dravis' forehead.

With a cry of pain, Dravis reeled back from the impact, the sheer force of Gaius knee lifting his feet off the floor as he fell backwards and hit the ground hard, groaning and lying still for a moment before turning over onto his side. He was seeing stars and his head was swimming from the blow.

"Stay down, Dravis," Gaius said.

"Go to hell," Dravis growled, pushing himself up onto his hands and knees, "I ain't done yet..."

There was a loud clack on the floor across the room, causing both men to look up toward it.

A guard had slammed the butt of his spear on the floor to get their attention. Standing between two guards was Emperor Maximilian.

"You are done, captain," the emperor said, walking toward the two of them, the guards following behind him, "Though I'll admit it was a good show."

"Your excellency!" Dravis said, quickly pushing himself up onto one knee and bowing his head.

Gaius knew he'd best give the right reaction as well, and kneeled, bowing his head as well as the emperor approached.

"I let this go on as long as I did because you two needed some kind of venting for the past," Maximilian said, coming to a stop a few feet from them, "But it's over now. That is final. Am I clear?"

"Of course, your excellency," Gaius said, "My apologies for making the mess."

"Wasn't your fault, you walked into an ambush," Maximilian said, and looked at Dravis, "And as for you, there is nothing that happens in this palace that I don't know about. You'd best remember that. Am I clear?"

Dravis did not look up, but nodded.

"I said, 'am I clear?'" Maximilian repeated.

"Crystal, your excellency," Dravis said.

"Good. Now go do your job," Maximilian said, and looked at Gaius, "On your feet, Gaius. I believe my sister is waiting for you."

Gaius and Dravis both rose. With a nod of his head, Dravis went to retrieve his tunic and then quickly marched from the hall. Gaius picked up his own, pulling it back on. "So then you know about what was in her letter to me," Gaius said, turning back to him.

"Like I said, nothing goes on here that I don't know of," Maximilian said, then he paused and smiled, "You've got a lot more gray hair than the last time I saw you."

"And you've more than doubled in size, your excellency," Gaius said, "You were still just a boy when I left. Now look at you, grown into a young man."

"I haven't been a boy since I was fourteen," Maximilian said, then gestured with one hand, "Walk with me."

Gaius followed the emperor as he turned and walked from the central hall into another passage opposite from where Gaius had entered.

"This team my sister is putting together is turning out to be quite the eclectic group," Maximilian said, "I assume you haven't met the other members yet?"

"No, I just arrived in the city a little while ago," Gaius said, "So you do know about the group, then."

"As I said, nothing goes on inside these walls I don't know of," Maximilian said, "She couldn't hide it from me even if she wanted to. Suffice to say, I also know why she came to the idea of such a group. She can tell you about that herself, however. What I'm more concerned with, Gaius, is the question of whether you're intent on seeing this through?"

"I don't know what it actually is yet," Gaius said, "Just that I'm going to be leading some form of special task unit."

"I mean the empire," Maximilian said, "Are you really back?"

Gaius took a deep breath, the only sound the echo of their footsteps in the empty halls, as he pondered what the emperor really meant by that.

"I left because I didn't want to fight against my own people," he then said, "I didn't expect to be back here at all. I just don't know yet."

The emperor chuckled, looking up at Gaius with a smirk. "You'll say yes," he said, "Even when I was a child, you lived and breathed for this country. You're a patriot still, I can see it."

"I love my homeland," Gaius said, "which is why I couldn't turn my fists against it. And I was called a coward and a traitor for it."

"Not by me," Maximilian said, "You resigned through the proper methods and I gave you leave to go. I'd have brought you back sooner if I could have convinced you. Instead, I found General Tilus to take your place."

"Yes, I've heard of the Rito," Gaius said, "I suppose he must be adequate if one of the birds made officer in the first place."

"I don't care what species he is, only that he can get the job done," Maximilian said, "He's level-headed and damn smart. He is currently out to assess the eastern border stations, making sure they're up to standards and make plans should the Bahdi attempt something before we're ready for them. But I should arrange for you to meet him when he's back."

"If I'm still here," Gaius said.

Maximilian chuckled again as he motioned to a door on their left with two guards standing outside it. He knocked, then looked back at Gaius. "You will be. As many years as it's been, I know you."

The door opened from inside, and a face Gaius never expected to see was visible on the other side.

"Huang Shi?" Gaius said, nearly choking on the name.

The man on the other side of the door smiled. His head was shaved and he was dressed in dark, studded leather armor, but Gaius still recognized that face and that smirk. Huang Shi was the son of Huang Xi, Gaius' teacher, and from the far east, beyond even Bahdi lands, where human culture was near unrecognizable compared to the western nations of the empire, Hyrule, and other lands he knew.

Gaius and Shi had both trained under Xi when they were younger, but parted ways when Gaius returned west to his homeland.

"Oh, so you finally decided to show up, Gaius?" Shi asked. His accent was thick, but he had a firm grasp of the language.

"What are you doing here?" Gaius asked.

"I'm here for a job," Shi said.

"I told you the group was quite eclectic," Maximilian said, "Though I'm not sure what to read of the past you two seem to have. Good or bad?"

"A little of both," Gaius said.

"Just wait until you meet the others," Maximilian said.

Shi turned and said into the room. "You were correct, your highness, it's Gaius, and the emperor."

"Do let them in then," came the princess's voice from inside.

"I'm afraid I have to go," Maximilian said, "Many matters to see to. But I will be back for tea later."

Gaius bowed his head, and the emperor turned to walk away, his bodyguards following him. Shi stepped back into the room and motioned for Gaius to step inside. Gaius did so, taking the opportunity to glance at the sword hanging from Shi's hip. Though trained for fighting with his fists, as Gaius was, Shi carried a curved blade from the far east. A katana, he believed the name was. A weapon not of Shi's own people, but of another civilization of humans that also existed in the far east. It was a weapon that emphasized its sharpness over its weight. The weight did not compare to the swords of the west, but if it was in good condition, that blade could cut through human bones like paper.

There was Princess Vivian, seated at the table in the center of the room, waiting patiently. Gaius knew of her condition, and the fact the room was normally kept dark because she didn't need the light, but all the lamps were lit and the room bright now. It must have been for the visitors such as himself. He could clearly see, as he expected, her eyes were that same milky white color as when she was a child, and she didn't look directly at him as he approached.

"Your imperial highness," he said and fell to one knee, bowing his head, and she laughed as she heard the sound of his boots on the carpet as he did so.

"You know I can't see you bow," she said.

"That is no reason to not show respect," he said.

"You always were a stick-in-the-mud, Uncle Gaius," Vivian said, "Rise, then."

Gaius stood up. "It is good to see you well, Princess Vivian," he said.

"And it's good you answered my call," Vivian said, "There was much that I couldn't risk putting in the letter, you understand."

"Of course," Gaius said, "I assume it has something to do with why Huang Shi is here?"

"Correct," Vivian said, "He is also going to be part of your team. We were just discussing his fee."

"Fee," Gaius said, glancing at Shi, "You're a mercenary, then?"

"Not just any mercenary," Shi said, "All those years ago, after you left to come back home, there was an uprising in my lands of magic wielders. They're dangerous enough on their own, but when many come together, they're even moreso. The entire nation was overthrown and wizards took control. Until recently, when they were brought down, not by war or diplomacy, but by assassinations. One by one, they were eliminated, either by men like me, or by each other trying to find traitors in their midst."

"It is quite a story, but the fact is Huang Shi is far more knowledgeable about dealing with wizards than anyone in the empire," Vivian said.

"I see," Gaius said, "Does this involve wizards then?"

"That's the problem," Vivian said, "We don't know what we're up against yet. In fact, once the team is all together, your very first order will be to find information on the Cult of White Masks, as we are calling it for now."

"Wait a moment," Gaius said, "I did hear rumors. Murders and kidnappings that were being perpetrated by people in white masks. You're telling me they're not just real, but a cult?"

"That is where the signs are pointing," Vivian said, "So does that have your interest?"

"I thought I was being called back for military operations, but this," Gaius said, "Yes, I don't even have to consider it. Saving lives is something I can easily agree to."

"Well, that was easier than expected," Vivian said with a smile, "I'm glad to hear it. I will send word to the others I've selected. They have a wide range of skill-sets and histories, some are military and some are not, but I think when you meet them, you'll appreciate the range of skills available."

"And that means we'll be working together again," Gaius said, looking toward Shi.

"For the money I'm being paid, I can stomach that," Shi said with a smirk.

"So that's the only reason you're here?" Gaius asked.

Shi shrugged. "I mean, sure, protecting the innocent and preserving the way of life, good ideals. But pay me enough and I'll make love to a side of bacon. Pay me more and I'll even act like I enjoy it."

"That won't be necessary," Vivian said, then paused as another knock at the door was heard, "I believe that is also someone you know, Gaius."

Gaius turned as Shi went to the door and opened it, and motioned the new visitor inside.

"Bloody hell," Gaius said, even more disbelief than when he saw Shi, "Lucia?"

The new arrival smiled. A vision of beauty, even at her age, perfect skin and long blonde hair, and bright blue eyes, and wearing an imperial uniform, though she wasn't wearing her sword.

"Hello, Gaius," Lucia Mecrot said lower than the average woman, "It has been a long time. And that's First Blade Lucia now."

"Don't tell me you're part of this too," Gaius said.

"As a matter of fact," Lucia grinned and saluted with two fingers to her forehead, "I'm your second-in-command."

There weren't many women in the imperial army, but the ones that were there earned every inch of it. At First Blade, Lucia was effectively among the most elite swordsmen in the empire. The First Blades served as the emperor's personal bodyguards, and also as elite units deployed on high-priority objectives. The legion's motto was "Riastad's first and last line of defense."

And he'd known her before he'd even sought out Master Huang Xi to train him, decades ago. Age was treating her more kindly. He saw no gray hair, no wrinkles, and not even any visible scars. If he didn't know better, he'd say she was barely in her twenties, but she was actually a year older than he was.

"So why didn't they pick you to lead, then?" Gaius asked.

"As a matter of fact, they did, or least, I was going to lead if you didn't accept the job," Lucia said.

"Gaius," Vivian said, causing him to turn back to her, "You were the supreme commander of the empire's forces under my father. You don't have that kind of position without incredible ability to lead. An ability that I think is truly wasted working as a bouncer. So let's make it official. Do you accept this task, to lead this special forces unit in defense of your emperor, your nation, and your people?"

"I accept, and I am honored to do so," Gaius said.

"I am grateful," Vivian said, and rose from her seat. She moved around the table, one hand on its edge to guide her, walking toward Gaius, where she had last heard his voice. Then, in an unexpected move, she threw her arms around him in a tight hug.

"Welcome home, Uncle Gaius," she whispered.

"I'm glad to be back," he said.

* * *

"So, First Blade, how long did that take?" Gaius asked as he sat down in the padded seat. Lucia had personally shown him to what would now be his private rooms, and the two of them were now alone.

It wasn't as opulent as the princess's room, of course, but more built as a workspace. A desk in one corner, with plenty of papers he'd likely need, a bookshelf stocked with many books he hadn't looked over yet, and dining table with four seats, one of which he now sat in.

"I got the promotion during the rebellion," Lucia said, "Saved the emperor's life, in fact, during the battle here in the palace. He was still a boy, then, but you should have seen it, Gaius, how quickly and readily he stepped into the role of a leader. I stopped seeing him as a child that day."

"So how did you save his life?" Gaius asked.

Lucia undid the button at the neck of her uniform, pulling down the left side of the neck just enough to show the scar on her left shoulder just below her collarbone. She had no visible scars on her face, but that one was clear, and Gaius bet she had more underneath.

"That's from a crossbow bolt that would have gone into his throat if I hadn't stepped in front of it," she said, pointing at the scar, "I just saw the shooter and reacted. And it's the reason I can't wear low-cut dresses anymore."

"He was obviously grateful," Gaius said as she walked around the table to set down in the seat to his left.

Lucia laughed. "He berated me for it. Called me a damn fool, and said he needed live soldiers more than dead heroes. Told me I needed better armor if I was going to do it again, and a few weeks later, a brand new set showed up made specifically for me." She paused, smiling and let out a sigh. "Best damn armor I've ever seen. I hit it with a sledgehammer and it didn't even dent, but light as a feather."

"Who's the smith?" Gaius asked.

"Signature on it is the same as the Hyrule royal smith's stuff," Lucia said, "The set must have cost a fortune to get from a foreign smith that's employed by their royal family."

"And the promotion with it?" Gaius said.

"Promotion to First Blade didn't happen until years into the war," Lucia said, "But I did get the push to First Legion as soon as I was back in the field, and I shot up rather quickly after that when the emperor realized I was marching with his legion in the war. Actual promotion to First Blade was about four years in, when we were finally really pushing back against the rebels, when their leaders started to fall one by one."

"And I tried to ignore it all," Gaius said with a sigh, "I didn't want to hear it, that we were divided against ourselves."

"Was going to happen sooner or later anyway," Lucia said, "When a nation is as large as the empire, it's a lot easier for the traitors and power-hungry to slip their schemes around unnoticed. It'll happen again in the future, but not for generations.

"You haven't seen him like I have, Gaius," she went on, her tone going down, "Maximilian in the field is like a man possessed. No emotion, no hesitation. Just plans, orders, and reactions. He thinks further ahead than anyone I've ever seen. I've been given orders that I had no idea what the point was, only to see it once I fulfilled my objective. A battle for him is like a children's puzzle. He picks it apart and finds the solutions."

"And he likes to put people on spikes," Gaius said.

"The traitors, yes," Lucia said, "But it's not like they don't deserve it. Whether on a spike or beheaded, the result is the same. And the spikes mean their body remains an example for some time to come."

"You trust him a great deal, then," Gaius said.

"More than I can say," Lucia said.

"Then I'll try to trust him too," Gaius said, "Because I still trust you."

She reached over to put her hand on his and squeezed gently. "You won't regret it," she said, "You'll see. Our nation is wounded now, but we're going to rebuild it, and it'll be even greater than before."

Gaius took the chance. Nearly a decade since he'd last seen her, but he took her hand and pulled her toward him and kissed her. She stiffened for just a second, then relaxed, moving completely out of her seat and putting her other arm around his neck, nearly in his lap as she returned the kiss fiercely.

"I wasn't going to beg, but I'm glad to see you're still a good kisser," she whispered as they parted.

With one hand, she started undoing the buttons down the front of her uniform, and Gaius smiled as he reached around behind her. "You aren't wearing your sword because it's your off-day?" he asked.

"That's right."

Gaius pulled the hilt he found from the back of her belt out to the side and pushed the button near the guard, causing the switch-blade to spring from it with a click.

"So what's this for? Shaving your legs?"

Lucia smiled, taking it from him. "Just because it's my off-day doesn't mean I'm ever unarmed," she said, then with a swing of her arm, threw it to the side, the blade sticking hard into the wood of the bookshelf with a loud thump, then rolled her shoulders back, letting her jacket slide off her arms before throwing them back around Gaius' neck and going back for another hard kiss.


	11. Chapter 11

**Chapter 11: The Growing Storm**

Princess Zelda looked up to see the dark storm clouds growing in the sky. Lightning jumped between them and the crack of thunder rolled across the land. From where she stood on the high mountains, she could see the spires of the capital to the northwest.

The walls of the city were covered with a black, oozing substance, a sign of the infection within. She didn't know what it was, but knew it was something terrible.

The storm clouds came lower and lower, as if seeking to consume the land itself, the lightning strikes coming faster and more frequent, and then they parted, revealing two red lights within, which looked downward like eyes, toward the great bridge east of the city.

Zelda's gaze was drawn down to the bridge. She didn't know how she could see so far, but she could see them clearly, two figures alone on the bridge, the rain pouring down upon them. A young, one-eyed wolf facing a larger and stronger boar with large tusks and fierce bristles. The two animals collided, engaged in vicious and deadly combat. Back and forth they struggled, their blood mixing on the stones of the bridge.

Finally, the wolf brought down the boar, clamping its teeth violently on the boar's throat and tearing it out in a shower of blood.

But then it came down from the sky. The two red eyes moved downward, and a great beast appeared from the clouds, with enormous tusks and pig-like snout. Its mouth opened wide, like a snake, and a piercing roar hurt her ears, and it came down on the bridge.

The enormous mouth smashed through the bridge itself, swallowing both the wolf and boar in a single bite. Then it turned, going for the city, and all the lives housed within.

* * *

The princess shivered in her sleep. The dreams seemed to be coming every night now, ever since that dark magical surge Bannon had sensed. It was a remarkable thing to see himself, he thought. The royal line of Hyrule had since time of legend supposedly had the power to see the future in their dreams. The first was the original Princess Zelda, over four thousand years ago, when she saw the coming of the King of Darkness.

And now, watching her shift uncomfortably, Bannon could see it on her hand. The glowing gold of the Triforce of Wisdom. He could see it, could feel its energy. It must have been dormant until that night, and now would not let her rest. It had become active in response to her emotions in that moment the dark surge had been felt so far away from its source.

It would be so easy, he thought, reaching for it with fingers like claws. She was weak now. She could become strong, as her ancestors had done, but right now he could easily rip it from her and take it as his own. His fingers inches from her hand, trembling in anticipation, he swallowed and licked his lips.

It would be so easy.

Zelda suddenly woke with a gasp, feeling the chill of cold sweat on her face. She gasped for breath, feeling her heart pounding in her chest. It was dark, and she was unaware of the gold glow that had now vanished from her hand. She looked to the mouth of the small cave they had found, where Bannon sat, keeping watch out into the jungle beyond.

She didn't know how he did it. They'd been traveling for several days now, and he refused to split the watch. He was always there, all night. As far as she could tell, he had not slept since that night they had been in the safehouse of his, with the boulder covering the entrance.

When she had asked, he had told her he could go three weeks without sleep. She'd then asked how anyone could do that and stay sane, and he had simply smiled in response.

But she'd had this same dream for four nights in a row now. Sometimes there were different details. She saw a dark, cloaked figure walking the blackened, destroyed streets of Hyrule's capital. She saw the statue of the three heroes in the square defaced, the heads shattered. Or she saw the crops of the surrounding farms rotting in the fields, withering into dust.

But she always saw the one-eyed wolf and boar fighting on the bridge, though sometimes the boar would win, but they were always devoured by the dark cloud.

Bannon looked over at her from where he sat. "It's still a long time until dawn," he said, "You can go back to sleep."

"Easy for you to say," Zelda muttered under her breath.

Of course, she also knew the stories, of the royal family members of old being able to see the future in their dreams. She'd even asked her mother about it when she was younger, only for the queen to confirm she had never had such an experience.

But was having the same dream so much a sign of it? She couldn't possible just say it was. Maybe it was the stress of the situation.

While she did feel safer with Bannon around, they were still traveling through the jungle, and those natives were out there somewhere. And it had now been nearly a week since she was taken from the castle and found herself here. Bannon didn't talk much, other than to give her directions or tell her to do something, and during the silence of the night she found herself alone with her thoughts.

She sighed, laying back and closing her eyes. But her thoughts went back to home. To the familiar faces she dearly missed now, that she had never dreamed would seem so far away and out of reach. It caused a pain deep in her chest, like someone was squeezing her heart, to think about.

But she had to stay strong. She felt a single silent tear fall down her cheek, and she wiped her eyes, refusing to cry again. Bannon had promised it was just a bit further to safe territory, and from there they could enter Imperial lands and possibly get horses to speed the journey west.

Bannon glanced back over at her as she lay back again, then with a sigh turned back to the mouth of the small cave, looking out into the jungle.

It was like a prickling in his skin. He looked down, raising his hand, fingers still twitching from the sensation.

It would be so easy…

* * *

Four days it had taken to get the Gerudo caravan to the city. It should have been the morning after the kidnapping, but one of the wagons had suffered a splintered axle due to a pothole in the road. Of course, the queen had known about it before the messenger from the caravan arrived, informed by the ninja she had watching them, but she felt it best to not let the Gerudo know she had invisible eyes on them just yet.

It had taken time to make an arrangement, between finding engineers, letting them go examine the damage, and then the materials and number of hands needed to unload the wagon, brace it up to replace the axle, and make the repairs. Zelda was convinced it shouldn't have taken so long, and suspected the engineer team of deliberately working slowly to have more time camping with the Gerudo women, but it wasn't something worth pressing them on.

It was a relief when she was informed the wagons had reached the city and the guard were escorting them to the castle. She was wearing one of her fine gowns a she entered the throne room, adjusting the weight of the crown one her forehead with one hand as she walked to the throne, the click of her heels echoing in the silent room. The footsteps of her bodyguard made no sound as he walked.

There were guards waiting who bowed their heads as Zelda passed them. She turned around, seating herself on the throne, deliberately sitting up straight as possible with her hands on each armrest, an attempt to make herself seem as large and imposing as possible. She knew all to well that appearances did matter in court.

"_Stand and walk like you're twenty feet tall,_" her father had told her long ago, "_Sooner or later the rest of the world will start to believe it._"

A shame that it took her so much of her life before she really understood the value of such words. It was about confidence, plain and simple. But it took nearly losing her kingdom twice before she finally found that confidence.

Also a shame that no amount of confidence would do anything for the bags under her eyes. She still wasn't sleeping well, and she feel the weight of the cover-up hiding them.

Her ninja bodyguard moved past her, taking his place behind the throne to her left. The place he stood was no simple thing if one understood the adage "offer one hand but arm the other." The simple act of shaking hands was frequently forgotten to be a form of showing friendship, but leaving one's other hand available for a weapon. And it was typically the left hand that was so armed.

Of course, there were plenty more around, taking their places around the room, some simply behind the handing curtains along the walls, while some were up in the rafters near the ceiling. And the one behind her stood in the open to give a sense of presence, though for this meeting, he wore his hood and mask up, concealing his all of his face but his eyes and giving him an added air of threat for the sake of impressions.

A ruler may be kind, but they must also be clear of their dominance.

Shifting her weight to find a more comfortable position, Zelda took a deep breath, then nodded to the guards a the room entrance. "Send them in."

One of the guards pulled the great ring handle, the door opening with a groan, and he leaned out, saying something to those outside. The Gerudo were not waiting outside, of course. It was several minutes before the door opened again, and the guard waiting raised his voice, announcing the ambassadors of the Gerudo tribes.

Zelda remembered the ninja had informed her the full delegation was twenty-two, but only five entered the throne room. The first walked in front, the other four carrying two chests between them. Though Zelda had heard the descriptions from her people, it didn't quite prepare her for seen a Gerudo in person.

_They really are that huge…_ she thought.

Ganondorf had been a monster, towering over everyone, at least nine feet tall. She'd always seen him as a giant among men, but seeing these women, for his race he had been decidedly average. Their features were also so similar, from the defined muscles on their arms and exposed abdomens to their long, sharp noses and large lips. All of them with dark skin and red hair, and they also wore bright makeup. Though most of this group wore different colors, only two both wore green, and the other three with red, blue, and yellow, and each painted their eyes and lips to match, the colors strong and standing out clearly from their natural skin tone.

The woman with the red makeup was walking in front. As they came closer to the throne, they stopped about fifteen feet away, and with a sweeping gesture with one arm the leader fell to one knee and bowed her head. The other four set the chests on the floor and bowed similarly.

"Your majesty, if I may, I am Gabora, chosen ambassador of Warchief Naveila," she said, "We come in peace, bearing gifts, in hope of opening relations between our people and yours."

"I welcome all who come in the name of friendship," Zelda said, "As such, I welcome you as my friends and guests. Please rise."

The women rose to their feet. Gabora stepped to one side as the other pushed the chests forward, facing them both toward Zelda.

"Warchief Naveila has empowered me to speak with her authority in this matter," she said, "As a sign of our intent, we bring these gifts, and more, for the queen of Hyrule."

The chests were opened. They were exactly what Zelda had expected, even as they pulled samples free to show them to her. Cloth, very fine silks, and crafts. In truth, they were nothing of exquisite value, but that was not the point. Perhaps some rulers would take offense that the gifts were not truly riches, but it was more a demonstration of intent and trust that mattered to Zelda.

Indeed, she was already thinking the merchant guild would have many members interested in trade opportunities for the goods. The silks especially. It was the potential future wealth that Zelda saw, not the immediate value in front of her. Hyrulean merchants would more than readily buy from the Gerudo. The problem was a certain biological need of the Gerudo that Zelda was certain would be part of the deal. But all that was to hammered out once the formalities were complete.

Thankfully, formalities didn't take long when greetings were the main thing being exchanged. It was just a matter of time before they were completed and Gabora's entourage was dismissed, and she joined Zelda in the queen's office to have the finer discussion in private. Or as private as it could be with Zelda's bodyguard standing quietly in the corner where he usually did.

But a pair of glasses and bottle of wine did much to help ease tension.

"So let's get this out of the way," Zelda said as Gabora took a deep drink of the wine, "We've thought the Gerudo extinct for nearly four thousand years. Where have your people been?"

"Out of sight out of mind, as they say," Gabora said, setting the glass down, "The desert is quite vast, an in the wake of war against the King of Darkness, our ancestors feared reprisal due to their supporting him, and decided to vanish into the desert."

"I cannot speak for my ancestors, but yours may have been right," Zelda said, "But that was four thousand years ago. I don't believe in the Sins of the Father."

"As we hoped," Gabora said, "The tribal chieftains met and discussed revealing ourselves at great length. Some were not in favor of it. The angry screaming could apparently be heard for leagues around."

"But this Warchief Naveila was?" Zelda asked.

"Warchief Naveila ultimately has authority when dealing with outside powers," Gabora said, "She was elected to the position by the other chieftains due to her patience and wisdom, and also her skill as a warrior herself. But she did not have to use her authority in the end, as the majority of the chieftains were in favor of this meeting."

"That's good to hear, even if there were a few against it still," Zelda said, "So how many of you are there? I mean, the tribes, not your group."

"Of course, we not have an exact population count," Gabora said, "But there are eight surviving tribes. A rough guess at total numbers puts us between three and four thousand."

Any other race would be hard pressed to rebuild their population from those numbers. In-breeding would be a definite danger. But the all-female Gerudo could still bounce back from that due to their unique circumstances. Which of course was her next question.

"I understand your race only has daughters, and always full-blooded Gerudo at that," Zelda said, "How have you maintained your numbers with that circumstance?"

"Truthfully, it was through selective kidnapping of men from other nations," Gabora said, "These were always careful to not leave a trail, or to select men would have likely fallen victim to other circumstances and disappeared, such as hunters or adventurers. Most, when they realized that no only not going to be killed, but allowed to have as many wives as they though they could handle, typically were happy to remain with our people."

"Be that as it may," Zelda said, "if we are to come to terms, the kidnappings will have to cease immediately. Your people will be welcome to enter Hyrule and find husbands by other means if they desire, but kidnappings are off the table."

"We expected this demand and are ready to accept it," Gabora said, "And for what it's worth, we also believe our people should not walk freely among yours. At least not yet. So many centuries of isolation has left us rather uneducated on the outside world and its cultures. Our group was educated extensively by our Hylian husbands for the kinds of behaviors we should expect, as well as teaching some of us your language.

"But most of our population have not received such an education and we'd like to avoid potential incidents that could result from the culture shock."

"Of course," Zelda said, "I can arrange for instructors to go to your people to teach the language as well as of our culture, and in turn learn of yours to bring the knowledge back here to educate our own people of yours. In the meantime, we can discuss the conditions that will result from your people becoming Hyrule's vassal."

"Your majesty, we are not here to discuss vassalage," Gabora said, "The final decision of the chieftains, barring the minority against, is to join Hyrule proper and completely, and integrate with your nation."

Zelda's brow furrowed. She had not expected that. "That would mean giving up much more of your autonomy," she said, "As well, because of the issues of culture shock, it may take some time before it can be implemented."

"I understand, but it is the goal our leaders chose," Gabora said, "It was a decision made to both garner your trust and to satisfy some of the voices among our own who have stated an interest in possibly joining your military and even becoming knights, though it may be born more of fantastical stories than knowledge."

"I see," Zelda said, thinking to herself. Yes, it was required that all military recruits be Hyrulean citizens. It was a precaution to keep foreign spies from infiltrating their ranks. That citizenship was not extended to vassals, who were expected to keep their own military in addition to any Hyrulean troops stationed in their borders.

Of course, that precaution would not prevent their own people from being turned, either with threats or bribes, but that was a different kind of security risk.

But integration presented its own challenges, which she was already reviewing in her head. It would take time. Years or even decades. But Hyrule was a land built through the unity of disparate peoples. The differences in their cultures would logically make it seem that Hylians, Gorons, and Zora would have a very difficult time maintaining the peace between their peoples. Yet they had grown to a such a strong unity, Zelda believed it truly would be impossible to drive a wedge between them all at this point. And if history was accurate, it was actually Ganondorf that was responsible for the unity. Nothing brings people together faster or more strongly than a common enemy.

The Gerudo themselves presented unique challenges as well. The Zora kept to their river domain, while the Gorons preferred the heights of Death Mountain to make their home. The Gerudo were nomadic tribes. City life, or even village life, would likely be hard for them to comprehend at first, to remain in one place for much of one's life. Much like the Zora and Gorons, Zelda doubted there would be many desiring to live in Hyrule as full residents as a result, and would likely keep to their desert.

Zelda had traveled that desert once, almost thirty years ago, with Link. He knew what he was doing, and they traveled during the morning, before it became too hot, then rested in the shade in the afternoon. Once the sun was down, they traveled further for half the night, then found a place to stay close and warm when the night became far too cold to keep going. It was a very hostile environment to those unprepared for it.

"I need to think on this," Zelda said, "Though we have much to discuss. In the meantime, I can arrange a guide to show you and your entourage around the city properly if you wish, and also answer any questions you may have."

"I'd appreciate that, your majesty," Gabora said, "I'm certain you have much that requires your attention."

_If only you knew,_ Zelda thought, remembering her next stop was down to the interrogation rooms to check on the progress with the prisoners that had been part of the group that kidnapped her daughter.

* * *

Lance sat near the center of the camp, taking his turn at watch. Each day was walking through the jungle with little else, finding edible fruits or fishing for each meal, and then making sure their campsites were well hidden from outside eyes. It was monotonous, but that was most long journeys. It was something he learned to understand about those stories of heroes, including his own parents. They didn't live a life of fighting and heroics every day. Those stories left out the enormous amounts of time that were just walking, sleeping in the dirt, and near starvation.

And the mosquitoes. Gods, the mosquitoes, he thought as he slapped the back of his neck where he felt a prick. They were everywhere in this humid climate, and that was another problem itself. He felt drenched, every step of the way each day. As bad as he felt, though, it was nothing compared to Areil. The Gerudo woman was from a dry desert climate. She spent almost every waking moment looking like she'd emerged from a river and short of breath.

But she didn't complain. Maybe she just didn't have the energy to complain. Or maybe she wasn't that kind of person.

Lance glanced over to where she lay, sleeping with no blankets or even a pillow. Everyone else was just as bad off, though his mother did at least have his father's shoulder where they lay together. Damien also slept by himself, his head resting on a flat rock he'd found just to elevate his neck at least.

The dark elf twins were not asleep at the moment, they were sharing watching with him, seated behind him so they could watch all the possible angles of approach.

"You got a thing for giants now?" one of the twins asked, noticing him looking over at Areil.

Natalya, Lance realized. She always did like to push his buttons, ever since they were kids, and especially since the incident that had given Lilith the scar on her lip when they were kids.

"No, just feeling sympathetic," Lance said, "As much as I hate this humidity, it looks so much worse for her."

"Oh, yes, real sympathetic," Natalya said, "I'll bet you're just looking for the chance of her to fall into your arms."

"You know that's not true," Lance said.

"Yeah, Natty," Lilith said, "She's so huge, he'd have to fall into hers."

Lance sighed. Natalya was pretty much the one who always started it, but Lilith's sense of humor was almost identical. Of course, as much as they did frustrate him, he knew it was all good-natured. Their mother, Silviana, was one of the kindest people he'd ever met, but her sense of humor was almost as bad. She did love to tease, though she said herself that she only teased people she liked.

"Oh, I think we upset him," Natalya said, and Lance heard her shift behind him. A second later, he felt her hands on his arm as she leaned around, and came close, leaning her face around his shoulder and almost right against his.

"You're thinking about the princess, aren't you?" she whispered.

"I'm trying not to," Lance said, but now they'd brought her up, and he saw her face again.

As she lay on the stone slap, her eyes blank, whatever they'd drugged her with nearly blinding her. But then when she looked up and said his name, he knew she'd be okay. That was until the magic that froze him and the masked woman took her right off of his shoulders. He'd pushed so hard, trying to force his way free, trying with all his might to scream, to grab her, to swing his sword, only to be powerless in the face of this foe.

His father had taught him to fight since he was twelve. He'd learned more when he'd joined the military at sixteen. He'd fashioned a fighting style all his own, learning to combine the adaptive, reactionary style his father had taught him with the traditional stances and moves of the Hylian knights.

There had been issues with the nobles, both among the recruits and his trainers, though. Particularly the fact he refused to bow to any but the queen herself. Maybe it was just something he'd picked up from his father. Link had a notorious reputation among the nobles caused by the fact he never bowed even to the queen. Evidently he had for decades now been overheard even addressing her by name, no titles or anything. This was compounded by the fact the queen never chastised or punished him for it. The reason he got away with it was because he was a hero, of course. He'd saved the kingdom more than once.

But nobles were nobles. They hated him for it, and Lance felt some of that came down on him because he was his father's son. He understood the need for discipline in the military, but he felt a few too many cases of minor or even nonexistent events resulted in him cleaning the latrines or peeling potatoes too often. And that was when they wanted to keep him useful. He had done a lot of push-ups during the early days of training. So many, he felt he could still drop and do over a hundred without even straining now.

For a time he'd even thought of quitting. Link had actually been the one to stop him there. His father told him that was what these kind of people wanted to see. They wanted him to fail. The way to hurt them the most was to succeed. To rise above their childish crap and one day see them taking orders from him. So Lance persevered.

He quietly took the beatings, and at the end of the first year, rose from the recruits to his rank as squire with the fastest times on the challenge courses, the surest aim at archery, and the most skilled sword in the sparring ring. He was the best among his peers and had proven it. All eyes had been on him that day. It was the first day he'd met the queen in person, and also the first time he'd met the princess.

He almost couldn't believe they were related. The queen had an overpowering presence. Simply being near her seemed to force him to fall to his knee in reverence. It wasn't that she was unfriendly. In fact, the way she spoke to him and congratulated him, he'd say she was nothing but kind. Yet he felt his heart racing merely from being in her presence. In fact, in light of this, he had no idea how his father so easily looked her in the eye.

The princess, on the other hand, had seemed so small in comparison. She was shy when the queen introduced them. She couldn't be more different from her mother if she tried. She seemed terrified of being in the public eye. But this was six years ago now, and he admitted her confidence had grown with her knowledge of how to rule a nation. She still had a long way to go before she was ready to be queen.

Only five of the fifty in his group would be chosen to become knights that day, and he was the first. He was then squired to an experienced knight named Sir Edgar Wallace. An older warrior, Sir Edgar was going to be retiring in just five years, but he was a survivor of both the Twilight Invasion and the Blighted War, and he was still fit, fighting the constant battle with age trying to slow him down. For now, he was still in fighting shape, but his efforts to remain so were merely delaying the inevitable. Lance would now learn from him as well as take the duties of caring for the knight's horse, armor, and weapons.

At first such chores seemed little more than busywork, but Lance soon realized why such things were importantly. He became intimately familiar with the armor, studying how it fit together, how to properly care for it to prevent rusting as well as hammering out dents without damaging the metal.

He also road with Sir Edgar and his men on patrols and other tasks into the countryside. It was not merely walking safe roads, either. Highwaymen and other criminals were always looking for an opening to take what they wanted from those weaker than them. Sir Edgar frequently led his men off the roads to find and root out such villains, and Lance saw a fair amount of blood and fighting even back then.

One day after returning from such an encounter and safe again at Edgar's home in the city, Lance had set to cleaning the knight's armor of the blood and grime it had collected during the battle, and Edgar had come into the room. At first Lance thought he was there just to make sure it was being done right, but then Edgar had told him something that had stuck with him ever since.

Edgar had reminded him of the other knights and their groups returning from similar patrols, and told him to make note of which ones' armor was still clean and shiny as they returned to the city. The knights' whose armor was bloody, dirty, and dented, they were the ones getting things done. They were the ones that one wanted by their side in times of war. Those that remained so shiny were more concerned with appearances than actual deeds.

At the end of his of squire, five years later, Sir Edgar reached his retirement and wished Lance well on his future career. He'd said that the future of Hyrule was in good hands with knights like him.

Lance was a knight-errant now. Placed under Damien, the knight-captain, and would serve as his second in command for the next several years before he reached true knighthood and command of his own squad.

And during those five years, he'd been in and out of the castle frequently with Sir Edgar. He saw a lot more of both the queen and the princess during that time. Being around them that much, the queen no longer seemed such a colossal figure as when he first met her, though she still had a powerful presence that seemed to overwhelm all else.

But Sir Edgar was frequently in briefings that Lance was not permitted to attend at the time. It was pure chance that one of those time, the princess happened to be nearby. He didn't think anything of making small talk. One talk led to more on future visits, though, and after some time, the princess had confessed to him that the idea of being the queen terrified her. It was a responsibility put on her by her birth, not be choice, and that was why she was so afraid of it.

He became a friendly ear for her, someone she could share those fears with, and he never told anyone. In fact, it led to a trust and friendship between them. When he finally became a knight-errant, she was there to congratulate him, a smile on her face and a bottle of wine ready to celebrate.

And that night, he had not gone back to his own bed. Looking back on it now, he was certain it had been culmination of the trust they had developed over the years. Maybe a little bit of the wine had eased fears and personal restrictions. But the deed done, as he lay there in the princess's bed, Lance was certain he'd be losing his head as soon as the queen found out. In fact, with the reputation of the royal bodyguards, he was surprised they hadn't been stopped in advance.

Now she slept, her hair disheveled and hanging across her face as he watched her. She seemed so peaceful now, not the scared girl he'd first met five years earlier. She was the future queen, and he was a knight of the realm in all but name at this point. So, on that night, he whispered, vowing to her that he would stand by and protect her with his life.

But as he dressed and left the room, he's actually started to think no one was going to be the wiser when two curved katana blades crossed in front of him before he'd even stepped out of the door. Two of the dark elf ninja had been waiting for him in the hall. "Come with us," one said, his voice barely above a whisper.

Into the queen's office they took him, where she was awake and still working even at this time of night. As it had turned out, she'd known the instant Lance had entered the princess's bedroom. Her tone of voice as she spoke was harder, less emotional than he'd ever heard, and that overpowering presence seemed to have swollen to ten times its original size.

Yet she did not raise her voice. She did not curse him or yell, or even threaten him. Somehow that made it even more terrifying that all she did was ask questions of his relationship with her daughter. How they'd become so close and what had driven them together. He'd answered the truth, now fully believing the stories that the queen could see through any lie, even though he had no reason to lie in his situation.

But it had ended with the question that he himself had no idea how to answer.

"Do you love her?" the queen asked.

He understood the hierarchy. He had already taken the oath to live and fight in the name of Hyrule, to defend its people and its ruler with his very life if need be. To that, he could easily have answered yes. But love as she meant, the more he thought about it, the less certain he was. He'd never been in love before. He had no idea what it felt like. The most he knew was how his parents behaved with each other, especially when he was younger and they thought no one was watching. He didn't feel he could be as comfortable and as free with her as they were with each other. To say yes might be a lie, but he was uncertain, and to say no would also be a lie. So he said the only thing he could.

"I don't know," he said.

"Of course you don't," she had replied, "You're a child still in many ways, as is she. Both of you have made a severe error in judgment this night. But the reason I did not interrupt it is because if I did, I'd be the stereotypical tyrannical parent trying to ruin my child's happiness, which would only urge her to continue. At least this way you can both learn from it.

"Listen to me. This didn't happen. No one else knows, and no one else will. My daughter may one day have to marry for the sake of politics. There are protocols for that, one being that she must be a virgin. And as far as anyone knows, she still is. You two may still be friends, but this incident will not be repeated.

"I'm not sparing you because of who your parents are, if that's what you're thinking. I'm doing it to avoid a public embarrassment. I will speak to my daughter in the morning and make sure she understands as well. And this is the last we will hear of it. Understood?"

Now sitting in the jungle, watching for the night, Lance thought back to that. That had been the last time he'd heard anything. The princess never mentioned it, and she also seemed to avoid him whenever possible. No longer was he the friendly ear for her fears and venting.

"Tell me something," Lance said, turning to look toward Natalya as she released his shoulder, "They make you kill as part of your training to be a ninja, right?"

"That's right," she said.

"As a matter of fact, they pull a prisoner from the dungeon and release them into the countryside," Lilith said, shifting her seating to look more toward them, "The prisoner is told if they can reach the border of the country, there will be no further pursuit. And after they have about a two hour head start, then the trainee is released to hunt them down and kill them with no aid."

"They're bad ones that were going to lose their heads anyway," Natalya added, "So no, it's not bread thieves used for this. But we're not told the crimes in advance. It's a test of our tracking skills, and that we're able and willing to kill when ordered to do so."

"I've never actually killed someone myself, though I've seen it done plenty," Lance said, thinking back to hunting highwaymen with Sir Edgar, "But these people that took the princess… Especially that woman who took her right out of my grasp… I want them dead. I want to hurt them. I'm just wondering if that means I'm a bad person."

Natalya reached to Lance's hand, giving it a gentle reassuring squeeze. "Of course not. They've wronged us, and killed innocents. As far as I'm concerned, they've bought their own tickets to Hell."

"But we were nothing before that wizard," Lance whispered, lifting his free hand and seeing his fingers trembling, "They took her right out of my hands. I wasn't strong enough to protect her. Not strong enough to even fight them. There has to be a way..."

Lilith moved, sitting down on the other side of him from her sister. "And we'll find it," she said, taking his hand in her own, "Together."

The twins had been a part of his life as far back as Lance could remember. He could remember playing when them back in Ordon when they were all children. It was safe to say no one knew him as well as they did. There was no one he trusted more than them.

He had to become stronger. But his father said that true strength was not about raw muscle. Not about how hard would could hit. That it was about refusing to give in, refusing to stay down.

So, simple courage, then? Was that true strength? He didn't feel he lacked in that, yet courage had done nothing to break the spell that held him fast when the wizard cast it upon them.

He'd understand when it was time, his father said. When would that be?

He could feel a sense of premonition. Something much bigger and much worse than anything so far was approaching. Would he be strong enough when it arrived?

* * *

Queen Zelda made the journey to the castle dungeons, and then to the torture chamber. She always reminded herself that she hated this, but the two she was going to see the results of had killed several people in her garden and kidnapped her daughter. It was hard to feel sympathy in light of that when she entered the room and saw the two of them restrained, one flat on his back on a table, wrists and ankles bound to the table itself, and the other bound to a metal stand that held him upright.

They were both bleeding, with black eyes and fat lips, though she knew those were from the Hylian interrogators, not from the three now waiting nearby for her.

Vargus turned, bowing and greeting her as she entered. The other two had arrived about three days ago specifically for this purpose.

Saren and Lark were their names. Two dark elf men, dressed in the dark armor of the ninja, like all the others, but their purpose was very different. Saren was the taller of the two, and older. He was nearly as old as Vargus, approaching his ninth century and the end of his life, while Lark was about half his age and still appeared barely older than a teenager. To be specific, though they had worked together for longer than Zelda had been alive, Lark was till technically Saren's apprentice.

"Your majesty," Saren said, bowing his head in greeting, and Lark did the same while remaining silent.

Where they stood was the table where their tools were laid out. A true nightmare to see, implements of metal as small as needles to wicked curved blades nearly six inches long, and dozens of implements in-between. And compared to the cliché of torture implements being rusty and dull to cause more pain, these devices all shined as if polished in the torchlight, and sharp enough to split hairs with no pressure.

Perhaps what was most frightening about Saren and Lark is that their subjects never showed any outward injuries when they were finished. No bleeding, no bruises, not even scratches. They were true masters of the art, as it were, though Saren had told her before that torture was no art. Artists create something from their emotions to inspire others. Torture was a science, about testing theories and finding truth from fiction.

"Everyone has a pain threshold, some higher than others," Saren had told her years ago, "The science is in finding that threshold and holding the victim there as long as possible without going past it. Go too far and they'll break and confess to anything, true or not. I've spent my life learning to pull the truth from them, not to get confessions."

But this was no time to concern herself with semantics and morality.

"Did they tell you where my daughter was taken?" Zelda asked.

"Unfortunately these seem to be nothing more than grunts to our enemy," Saren said, looking over at the two of them, "They knew their orders, and the order to take the princess to the clearing, but it seems neither of them have actually been to a base of operations for the cult, much less know where to find it."

"Seems they keep their low-level operatives in the dark, much like any army," Lark added, "Need to know basis and all that."

"What we did get from them was a great deal of their beliefs and what they intend to come," Saren continued, "To give you the short version, it seems that a so-called prophet came to their home village, telling them that they're enslaved by those in power, even if they don't realize it, that they're being kept down by the royalty specifically to control them with lies of gods that do not exist because they do not interact with the world. Then the prophet touched their heads and showed them a vision of a new god that was coming to the world to punish the wicked and slavers, to free the world from hate and suffering and inequality, all that kind of crap."

"It's exactly like most cults," Lark said, "The weak-willed and cowardly are convinced someone else will come to save them, and they trade an honest life and job they now see as slavery for actual slavery to the one behind it all. These two genuinely believe it and when we pressure them for their own opinions, they just repeat what they've been told. The brainwashing is strong here."

"This prophet," Zelda said, "What did he look like?"

"They've never seen his face," Saren said, "He always wore the white mask, like the others, but they did mention he was small, barely over three feet in height, yet spoke with the voice of a man."

"The wizard," Zelda said, remembering the reports she'd received from the knights who interviewed the Gerudo who had been at the scene, "So he's masquerading as a prophet and turning my own people against me."

"If he's skilled at illusions, this vision of a god he gave them is likely also false," Vargus said.

Zelda looked over at the two unconscious forms strapped to the tables.

"Is there any hope of salvaging these men?" she asked.

"Hard to say," Saren said, "Brainwashing is a hell of a thing. It's not just about making someone believe something that isn't true, it's also about teaching them to resist all other ideas and opinions, even in the face of undeniable evidence. Denial of reality in its truest state. Without even thinking about it, they'll twist facts to suit their beliefs and change stances on the spot to conform new knowledge so it suits what they've been trained to believe."

"Kind of goes with that following the prophet because they think he'll save them," Lark added, "They don't want to think for themselves, they want to follow, and now that they have an ideology they're following, getting them to break from it will involve teaching them to think for themselves again. They're going to resist that hard."

It would be easier to simply execute them. If they broke free, they could hurt others in their efforts to escape and return to their master. But even then, she remembered the murders of the innocents on the farms and the reports she had read of the bodies, skinned alive and left there as the building burned.

These people who had fallen for this prophet's words were victims themselves, and yet they might all be too far gone to save if acts such as those did not awaken a sense of wrong in them.

"Do you think it's possible?" Zelda asked Vargus.

"Perhaps, if we are able to locate their families to help, and that those families are not themselves victims of the cult," Vargus said, "Breaking brainwashing will require reintroducing them to their loved ones from before, and reminding them of what they've lost, then facing them with the atrocities they've committed in light of that. It will hurt them, both emotionally and psychologically, but both are part of the recovery process.

"It would be easier away from here, up in our village," he added, "These poor fools have been trained to see the castle and the queen as symbols of oppression, not the unity they are meant to represent. At the same time, perhaps an example should be made to those who would threaten the nation."

"We have several dead from the fight in the garden already," Zelda said, "They will serve for that. And these two, if they can be saved, perhaps that alone will help bring others back around. Though if they can't..."

"In that case, perhaps we would be best off if they simply disappear," Vargus said, "Something else that will be much easier away from the capital."

"Agreed," Zelda said, "I'll leave it to your discretion, Vargus. You know more of these matters than I."

"As you command, your majesty," Vargus said, "After dark, we'll move these two out of the city."

The queen excused herself and Vargus followed her from the chamber, making their way back up toward ground level.

"Your meeting with Emperor Maximilian is approaching, is it not?" Vargus asked as they walked.

"I'm leaving tomorrow morning," Zelda said, "We're having it on Baron Ravenholdt's lands, so I'll be gone about six days, but I've already informed the pertinent officers to keep me in touch with the communication earrings. I fully expect this cult to try something while I'm away, so I want everyone on high alert while I'm gone. They might even find the balls to attack people in the capital."

"We can spare a few dozen more ninja to bolster our numbers here," Vargus said, "I'll have them come to the capital and set up more out-of-sight patrols. Maybe we can catch them first."

"Good idea," Zelda said, "I'll take no more than the normal ten with me as bodyguards for the trip. I doubt the emperor is going to try anything untoward in any case. He would not have suggested using my vassal's lands to meet if he was."

"I do agree," Vargus said, "Our spies believe he is more focused on the empire's old enemies on their east side in any case. A much bigger fish to fry, if you'll pardon the cliché."

"So long as you'll forgive mine," Zelda said, "All these problems had to pile up at once. It never rains but it pours."


	12. Chapter 12

I apologize for this chapter taking so long. Real life stacking up, and considering current events, I even wondered if it was proper to be posting this kind of story with the kind of things happening in the world right now. But the world wars were what gave birth to fictional heroes like Superman and Captain America, so maybe in bad times we need the escapism all the more. So I don't intend to stop, and don't intend to take so long again for the next chapter. Sorry again.

**Chapter 12: The Numbers Game**

Somewhere in imperial lands west of the capital, a few hours before dawn, a small group of travelers were in a disagreement over what to do with their charge. Their small campfire, just over a small hill from the road, was the only light on them as they argued.

The subject of their argument was the woman lying on her side on the ground, her hands and feet bound behind her, with visibly swollen, pregnant stomach about three months in. But she was unmoving, her throat cut and her blood pooling on the ground in front of her.

"The date's come and gone," one of the other figures was saying, "She's useless now and was slowing us down."

"If we show up empty handed, it'll be far worse than being late," said another, "There were no other survivors from that farmstead, so pursuit will be slow. But now we've got nothing thanks to you."

"Yes, we'll show up with a sacrifice for a ritual that's already finished," said the first, "I'm sure that'll go well. It's already over. Better to be done with it. Just leave the body here and the scavengers will take care of it."

"And leave an obvious trail?" said a third, "You damn farmers don't know anything about kidnapping, We leave her here, this far from her home, it'll be like painting an arrow at where we're going. We can't leave just her here now. We need to either burn or bury the body."

"Burning will be too obvious," the second said, "Once the sun's up, the smoke will be visible for miles."

"And what if we are being followed already?" said the first, "I told you, I saw the shadow following. It's getting closer each day."

"You're just paranoid," said the third, "Or superstitious. Nothing is following us."

To bad he could no be more wrong. The three men were oblivious to the figure slipping silently around the edge of the firelight. They all sat too close, leaving themselves nightblind. A boot stepped down near the face of the body, making almost no sound. The hood of his cloak was up, hiding his face in the shadow of the night, and he paused only a moment to look down at the body, noting her dead, empty eyes.

Then he stepped past her, into the light, and one of the men, facing toward him already, looked up and warned the others, all three going for their weapons. Too bad it was already too late for them.

By the time they realize he was there, he was upon them. The first looked up, crying out. The second turned, reaching for a sword at his hip, but didn't get to draw it. The cloaked figure grabbed his head with both hands and twisted it. There was an audible crack as the skin of his neck ripped, his head twisting almost a full rotation, then fell to the ground limp.

"Holy crap!" the third of the group said as the first rushed past him, sword drawn and swinging the chipped edge toward the newcomer.

And his eyes went wide in shock as the figure simply reached up and caught the blade in one hand.

"There's no way..." he whispered, looking at the hand now holding the blade. Some kind of armored gauntlet? No, the newcomer's hand was bare, and he could see the blade cutting over and inch into the hand, down into the wrist. But there was no blood, and it hadn't felt like the blade had hit bone.

He looked back to the cloaked figure's face, and in the flickering firelight, for one instant, he saw what lay within, and the giant red eye fixed on him. Then faster than he could react, the cloaked figure's other hand came up and struck him in the center of the face with the heel of his hand. He cried out as blood spilled down his face, his nose crushed in one blow.

He then fell back on the ground, hands going to his face as he screamed in agony, and the cloaked figure turned on the third. Seeing no other option, the third drew his blade and aimed for the head. The cloaked figure moved to the side, dodging this swing, his hood falling back and revealing his face in the firelight.

The third felt as though his heart stopped at the sight. His attacker's face was marked. A burn scar covered nearly the entire left side of his face, and in the scar tissue was an enormous red eye, nearly twice the size of his other eye, all crowned with snow white hair, now splashed with the blood of his victims.

Zero was his name, and he was not human. A product of the bleakest necromancy, stealing not just innocent flesh, but a part of a living man's very soul. He was near-invulnerable to physical harm and felt no fear or weariness. And as those who had crossed his path in the past had learned, he showed no mercy.

Only now did he pull the sword from his hand. No blood and no pain came from him. He dropped the blade to the ground, stepping toward the last man standing. The man's attack was nothing but desperation now, and Zero easily moved in past the swinging blade and with a single strike toppled the man, a blow to his head rendering him unconscious. He fell to the ground with a heavy thump.

Zero turned from him to the other that still lived, or had. The crushed nose seemed to not simply be broken as Zero looked down at his now unmoving form. Looking closer he confirmed it. He'd pushed the man's nose backwards into his skull and now had already bled out.

Well, at least one was still alive. Zero leaned down, grabbing the unconscious man's belt and lifting him from the ground as easily as one would a child. He then carried him to the body back toward the dead woman. Zero leaned down, turning her head with his free hand. No, she wasn't the one he was looking for.

In that case, the one still living would have to tell him where they had been headed. Fortunately, there was an effective tool nearby.

He was efficient, and soon was ready. But the unconscious man did not wake for several hours, and as he did, he came to a startling realization.

The first rays of the sun hit his eyes and he slowly opened them, feeling the splitting pain in his head from where the attacker had struck him. He lifted one hand to his head, or rather, tried to. His arm wasn't moving. It wasn't in pain, and he could feel it, but an immovable pressure held it fast. The same with his other arm.

"The hell?" he said, looking down, only for his chin to hit the dirt.

He was buried up to his neck in the earth.

"What the hell?!" he said louder, and strained with all his might, attempting to break free, but made no progress. The earth was packed tight around him.

"Awake at last," Zero said, walking around in front of him, looking down at him.

The man gasped at the huge red eye looking down from under the hood.

"What are you?" he demanded.

"You really shouldn't waste time with questions like that," Zero said, and pointed ahead, "See that over there?"

It was straight ahead of the buried man. A seemingly innocuous mound in the earth, quite visible in the early morning light, about six inches tall.

"That mound is a nest," Zero said, "The occupants are a colony of Imperial Fire Ants. Named Imperials after the fact they are native to the Empire of Riastad's lands. According to the studies conducted by entomologists of the nation, they are called fire because their sting is just as painful as your flesh being set aflame. At night, they return to the nest to escape the cool, and each morning they emerge to hunt for food for the colony, hungry and aggressive."

"Morning?" the buried man said, trying to look up to see the sun. The first rays were just falling over the hills, the sun itself barely peeking over the east horizon.

"So you've got minutes at most to decide," Zero said, "Tell me where you were taking the woman or I will leave you here, buried and helpless for the ants."

This man was not the farmer. He had been the third speaker of the argument, and was a former highwayman. He never really believed what that masked preacher had said, about the coming of a new god, a true god, to carry the faithful to paradise. He'd merely seen a way to be sanctioned, to an extent, for his knowledge of robbery and ransom. And in this moment, he had no loyalty to the cult.

"Okay, okay," he said, "It's an old might in Hyrule, north of the capital about six miles. You go into the tunnel, past the seventeenth vertical supports, and the right hand wall there is fake. It's an illusion, made by a magician, you can just walk right through it. That's where we were going with her. Now get me out of here."

"You gave that up quickly," Zero said, "How do I know you're not lying?"

"Look, I'm a two-bit thief!" the buried man said, "I'm only in this for the money! Never had any belief of this talk about a god or anything of the sort!"

"A god?" Zero repeated. That was new to him. Not surprising, given they were a cult, but still he had to ask, "What god?"

"I don't remember the name," the thief said, "Some kind of shadow. Kind of looked like a pig. Had the snout and the tusks on the statue. They said it was coming to save the faithful and punish the wicked. Usual religious crock, I thought."

"A pig..." Zero said, thinking, "Could it be Ganon? Has he returned after all these years? Starting a cult isn't really his style, but maybe that's the point..."

The thief looked at him, absorbed in thought, and looked over at the mound in panic. A small black shape appeared from the top, slowly moving down the side of the mound. Then another, and another, and then ten more, slowly spreading out in all directions from the mound.

"Come on, get me out of here!" he said, looking back at red eye.

"One more question," Zero said, looking back down at him, "What are the women for?"

"It's not the women they're after," the thief said, "It's the unborn children! Said they're needed for some kind of ritual to summon the herald."

Zero was no fool. He'd studied history and magic over the years. That was necromancy. It was extremely rare to see someone actually practice it. But if such innocent flesh was needed for the ritual, either the necromancer was a true sadist or something else was happening. What could it be?

"So you were in it just for the money, but were willing going along with the plan," Zero said, "A plan that involved the destruction of innocent lives. Of course, it would be hypocritical of me to judge you for that. I don't care about them. So I'm not going to kill you."

The thief breathed a sigh of relief. "Okay. Now get me out of here..."

"I'm also not going to save you," Zero said, "I'm going to leave and let you try to escape. If you manage it, tell your boss I'm coming for him. And I'll kill every last one of his followers and make sure he dies slowly if the girl I'm looking for is dead.

"If you don't, it doesn't matter," he added with a shrug, "He'll still find out eventually."

"Wait!" the thief said as Zero stepped away, behind him and out of his sight, "You can't do this! You said you'd let me live!"

"And so I have," Zero said, his footsteps moving further away, "The rest is up to you."

The thief looked back to the anthill, terror overtaking him as he saw the black ants coming out in greater and greater numbers, and moving out, searching for their first meal of the day. And the line of them that was coming toward him.

He knew about these ants. In large enough numbers, they could take now a live bull. With the strength born of terror and desperation, he pushed up, struggling to break free of the tightly packed earth that held him.

To no avail. The greatest of his struggles provided only the slightest shift of the earth. He pushed harder, grinding his teeth, feeling the pain screaming down his arms and legs as he pushed with all the desperation to survive.

The ants were coming closer. Each was about the size of his thumbs, shiny black in color, and moving relentlessly forward. In desperate denial, he smashed his chin down, crushing the first that came close to him, and then did it again and again. But there was no fighting a swarm like this.

He felt the pain of the sting on his neck, a searing pain that started like a needle and then spread, like sticking one's hand into an open flame. Then another and another. And he screamed. He screamed as the ants began to climb up his neck and into his hair, more and more stings burning his flesh. He could still feel their legs, like tiny needles, climbing over his burning flesh.

The ants had found their meal. It would feed many new brood for the colony.

* * *

The queen had decided to depart before dawn to try to avoid raising a stir with the populace. Her carriage now followed the road that led northwest and would then snake its way east through the mountains north of Kakariko village. Her destination was the Ravenholt Barony on the other side of the mountains to meet with Emperor Maximilian when he arrived in a few days.

She had considered not taking the carriage and instead riding herself, like the company of knights both ahead and behind on the road, but it was a matter of appearances, like the fact she now wore one of her gowns for public appearances rather than more comfortable clothing or even her armor. The armor was packed into a trunk in the luggage compartment of the carriage, but her sword was on the floor by her feet, within easy reach.

The queen was not the conventional lady of court many might expect. There was a time she was, but then the Twilight Invasion happened, and her inexperience as a ruler, and fear for her people, had nearly cost the kingdom everything. In the years that followed, she'd had to make a journey across the ocean to the west, to the continent of Mystara. There, she was drawn into a war that decimated the five kingdoms and left it a bleak wasteland. While she had brought back all the survivors she could to Hyrule, only a few hundred had been able to be saved, compared to the millions that had died.

During this journey, she had been in the company of Link, the one responsible for almost single-handedly defeating the Twilight Invasion, and she would learn much from him on that journey. From simply how weak she was when her feet were bleeding by the end of the first day of walking, to how little she truly knew of the world outside the capital.

It wasn't just the exertion of the journey that toughened her up, either. Link had taught her to fight with a sword, and the training had put real muscle on her for the first time in her life. Living through the war, she also grew as a person, gaining the experience and the confidence so that when she returned to Hyrule, she could finally be the queen she should have always been.

So it was not fear or worry she felt at the idea of meeting the already infamous Emperor of Riastad, but more curiosity, to see if the man lived up to the growing legend. After all, if her math was correct, the man would only be twenty-three years old right now. Barely more than a boy compared to a woman in her fifties like herself. And then if he was going to be dangerous, what possible routes she could take to mitigate that.

Her methods for such matter were growing by the year.

As if on cue, the carriage door opened without the carriage stopping, and in an instant one of her ninja entered gracefully, closing the door behind himself, and fell to one knee in the limited space he had to do so.

"Report?" Zelda asked.

The ninja looked up. Though his hood and mask were up, she could see his eyes. Not one of the dark elves, but a Hylian, indicated by his paler skin.

"The information from the interrogated prisoners led us to the meeting point they were supposed to go following the ritual in the clearing," he said, "It was an old hunting cabin near the southern forest. Unfortunately it had already been cleared out, and many trails leading different directions. Hunting parties have already been dispatched after each, but it will be some time before we hear back."

"So they scattered," Zelda said, "I expected that, but hoped we'd be in time."

"Master Vargus also requested you contact him when you have the time," the ninja said.

"Very well, one moment," she said.

She lifted one hand to her ear, where the special earring waited, and gave it the gentle touch to activate it. "Vargus," she said.

The answer came immediately. "_How can I help, your majesty?"_ his voice directly in her ear said.

"Your scout just informed me of what was found," she said, "I assume you already know?"

"_Indeed,_" Vargus said, "_I only learned of it a few moments ago myself. I do have something found after he was sent to you. A letter, in a manner of speaking._"

"A letter?" Zelda asked.

"_Insane scrawling, mostly,_" Vargus said, "_Repeating what the prisoners said, about the true god coming to wipe away the faithless and those that follow the false gold idols. Nothing useful. But I thought you'd like to know, there's a direct threat here. That if we attempt to interfere with their movements, they'll kill more people. Threats to start going after entire villages instead of isolated farms._"

"They've already killed innocent people," Zelda said, "They seek to weaken my resolve, but every life they take only galvanizes my belief they will have to be eradicated. By sword if necessary."

"_And one more bit here,_" Vargus said, _"If we want to see the princess alive, we are to open the gates of the capital and surrender to them at once._"

Zelda almost didn't believe it, it was so absurd a demand. She had only a garbled message from Link saying her daughter was even alive now, and that was days old. As much as she wanted to hope, she had to be realistic. And she had to take the same stance for her own family that she took for others.

"We do not negotiate with men that will use innocent lives as leverage," Zelda said.

"_I knew you'd say that,_" Vargus said, "_So I've made the arrangements. All I need is your formal permission to activate the Yiga Clan._"

The ninja were few in number when they first came to Hyrule, and the dark elves as a species were doomed. There had been no women among them, and even if there had been, there would have been too few to sustain a species while avoiding inbreeding. But by recruiting Hylians and Zora to their number, they had grown to the point they began to split the ninja forces into the different clans, each dedicated to particular training and skills. New recruits were now determined which skills were their greatest strengths and assigned to the matching clan for more dedicated training from the true masters. Two of these clans were the Steel Clan, which made up the personal bodyguard of the royal family, and the Wind Clan, which were the long range field scouts, experts at moving unnoticed in the natural world.

The Yiga Clan was the smallest clan, and its members were those that excelled at infiltration and assassination. They were not scouts or spies, but were selected by those whose greatest strengths involved killing in silence and vanishing without a trace. Whether using poison or blade, they were the best at what they did, which was a singular mission: Search and destroy.

They were kept inactive, as their skills were only truly needed during wartime, and only the queen's word could give permission to deploy them, exception only in emergency circumstances that left her unable to give that permission. Well, these white-masked sociopaths had brought a war, and it was one Zelda intended to win.

"Permission is given," she said, "Find their holes and root them out. One condition: When they find the leader, the short one, I want his corpse. I want to see that he is dead with my own eyes."

"_Understood, your majesty,_" Vargus said, "_I'll keep you informed of our progress._"

* * *

"We're making good time," Bannon said as he and the Princess Zelda walked the animal trail through the jungle, "I think we'll be in safe grounds before sundown."

It had only been a few days, but Princess Zelda already found the walks easier. Her legs and feet no longer screamed in pain after just a few hours, and she could keep going for some time yet. It had been a change she was almost unaware of at first, until the day she noticed she had been walking until mid-afternoon before realizing it.

Bannon has pushed her, even when her legs had been screaming their protests to her, yet had always stopped before she actually collapsed. His pace had also quickened each day, but he never moved too quickly for her to keep up. And now the sun was sinking down below the trees, yet she felt she could go on for hours yet.

It was the easier part of life in the castle finally falling away as she adjusted. She had wondered why her mother, the queen, spent at least an hour, usually two or more, in the training yard each day smacking the training dummies with a blunted sword. The answer she'd received when she asked was to prevent herself from becoming weak once again.

Now Zelda had to admit, even as small a thing as this progress was, she felt proud of herself, and it felt good. And was a distraction from the nightly terrors she endured in her sleep. Bannon asked her nothing of it, and she said nothing. She still wasn't certain she wanted to understand why she kept having the same dream, but it continued to hound her thoughts.

"Narak patrols in this area might be part of Hoots' group," Bannon said, "Less likely to try to kill us on sight, at least."

"This Hoots, you've mentioned him before," Zelda said, "Why is he named that?"

Bannon shrugged. "Never asked him. If I had to guess, he probably used an owl hoot to signal other hunters when he was younger. Narak pick names off things like that."

"That seems so strange," Zelda said.

"Yes, well, they likely think civilizations that build stone walls and root themselves in one spot to be quite strange," Bannon said.

"So why would his tribe be more friendly than the other Narak?" Zelda asked.

"Because he owes his life to a couple of people from the north," Bannon said, "Either Imperials or maybe even Hyruleans. Ask him the details if you want, but what I know is he's a bit more open-minded when dealing with northerners.

"Oh, a fair warning, though," he added, looking over his shoulder at her, "If they offer you meat, make sure you only take the smaller pieces, avoid the long strips."

"Why?" Zelda asked.

"Because the Narak are all cannibals, and trust me, you don't want to know more than that."

That thought sent a chill down her spine. That there might be food offered with human meat among it… No, she didn't want to think about it.

And she was startled from the thought when she nearly walked into Bannon's back.

"What's wrong?" she asked.

"We're not alone..." he said, his voice low.

Zelda strained her ears, listening for sounds out of the ordinary in the jungle she was become accustomed to. He was right. The birds had fallen silent, but she could hear nothing moving nearby. Yet now that she thought about it, there was _something_ out there.

It wasn't like an animal or a person. An invisible feeling sending chills across her skin. Something she could only describe as truly unholy.

Movement in the corner of her eye. She turned and gasped. A lone figure was visible through the trees. Clad in loose-fitting robes, but hanging over a clearly masculine frame, and his face concealed behind that cursed white mask.

"There..." she started, touching Bannon's arm.

"I see him," Bannon said, "Stay behind me, no matter what happens."

Zelda moved to place Bannon between herself and the masked figure. As she did, the masked figure leaned down, and what happened next defied all Zelda thought she knew of the world. He placed his hands on a fallen tree, about a foot in diameter, and then lifted it from the ground. She could hear the snapping of vines and the creaking of the old, splintering wood, and then saw it, nearly ten feet in length, held above the figure's head.

And he threw it like a spear. The entire tree trunk hurtled toward them at high speed. Bannon put his arm back and pushed Zelda aside as the massive object flew past them to crash into the earth a dozen or so feet behind them.

"Good gods..." Zelda whispered.

What kind of monster was this? She looked back toward the masked figure.

"The other one said she was going to kill me," she said in realization, remembering that night several days ago, "He must be here to finish it."

"You're not dying today," Bannon said, then chuckled, "I wouldn't have gone to all this effort if I was going to let you die now."

"You-" Zelda started, only to cry out as the figure leaped toward them.

He crossed the distance in a single bound, so effortlessly and fast, one hand outstretched. Bannon reacted as quickly, snatching the wrist of the outstretched arm with one hand, and a second later bringing his other fist straight into the masked face. Zelda heard the crack, the wooden mask splintering under the impact.

The blow carried through, the man's momentum turning the punch into a clothesline, his feet flying forward out from underneath him, then a second later he was past them, Zelda turning to see him rolling across the ground, bouncing several times with his momentum.

Bannon stepped around her, once again putting her behind himself. "He felt that one," he said.

But from the form on the ground came only a chuckle that then turned into a laugh. He sat up and Zelda flinched at the sight of the splintered mask, pieces digging into his face, but then he simply reached both hands to his face and pulled the mask, the largest pieces coming away, then he brushed a few times, the other splinters falling from his skin.

But he was left unharmed. She could see no blood or other markings on his face as he grinned.

"I didn't feel a thing," he said through that grin.

"Another one of you freaks," Bannon said with a sigh.

Zelda's first thought was the woman who looked like her, and the way she had pulled the knife from her own chest with no blood or visible wound left behind. What were these monsters?

"If I'm a freak, what exactly does that make you?" the man asked as he rose slowly to his feet.

He pulled off his hood, dropping the white robe to the ground, revealing his clothing beneath to be a simple suit of leather armor with no visible symbols or crests. Other than the mask and robe, he had no symbols of allegiance.

Then with a melodramatic flair, he twirled one hand and then pointed straight at Bannon and declared in an accusatory tone, "Ganondorf!"

Silence fell over the area as the man grinned as if in triumph. There was a rustle of the wind in the trees.

"Sorry, was that supposed to be the dramatic reveal?" Bannon asked, "I don't think it landed."

"Wait, like the legend?" Zelda asked at last, looking at Bannon.

"Hear that?" Bannon said, "That name means nothing to her either."

The man shrugged. "Call yourself whatever you want, but I know you," he said, "After all, killing you is what I've been preparing for years to do."

"That right?" Bannon asked, "So you might know my name, but I don't know yours."

"To tell the truth, I gave mine up as well," he said, "But I think I'll keep with what my master calls me for now. You can call me Four."

"Four?" Zelda said, "But that's..."

"Stupid," Bannon finished, "He's fourth in line of a series of experiments. He's just as disposable as the ones before him as well. Otherwise he'd play this smarter and not run into the lion's mouth dick-first."

"That's where you're wrong!" Four said, his grin seeming to grow even larger, "Like I said, I've spent years readying just to kill you, Ganondorf Dragmire. I do not fear you because I have no cause to. Let me show you!"

Zelda didn't have time to wonder what Bannon meant by the fourth in a line of experiments, as Four leaped toward them. He covered the distance in a single bound, coming down on Bannon with a clenched fist and hard swing, only for Bannon to step aside. Zelda heard and felt the rush of wind off the incredible force behind that punch. No human could survive that kind of impact.

Bannon turned as he stepped, leaning his own fist into the motion, striking hard across the side of Four's head. There was a splatter as Four's head exploded in a shower of flesh-colored liquid.

"Gods..." she said, shocked at just how much strength Banon had, only to then gasp in horror as Four's body not only stayed on its feet, but the flying liquid suddenly reversed directions, all congealing back into place and returning form into his face, completely unharmed.

Bannon didn't hesitate, though, stepping in with another powerful punch. Four attempted to raise his arms to protect himself, only for the force of the blow to smash through them, turning them to flying slime and powering through, right into his face again. This blow sent Four backward, landing hard on his back nearly four feet away.

"Years just to kill me, huh?" Bannon said as the slimy pools of liquid crawled back across the ground toward Four, reshaping into his arms as they reached him, "Seems you wasted a lot of time there."

Four chuckled as he slowly rose to his feet again. "Let's wait on that until I actually feel one of those. But I suppose I can stop playing around if you're so eager."

Then in an instant, far faster than before, Four closed the distance between himself and Bannon, and they were face-to-face. Bannon's eyes went wide in surprise at the sheer speed while Four grinned wickedly. Then an instant later, they collided, Four's momentum sending them both flying hard through the air past Zelda, who turned to see them smash right through a tree and roll on the ground on the other side.

"What are you monsters?" Zelda whispered.

* * *

"Holy shit," Lance said as the group looked out between the trees, back toward the river, "I think we found one of those lionels that were screaming the other day."

"What's left of him," Damien said as Link stepped up beside the two of them.

The body lay in the river, half-eaten by its killer, with visible bones jutting from its back, and dead long enough now that the flies were gathering, and the group were mercifully far enough away they couldn't smell it yet.

"We were drinking from that water," Kilishandra said with a groan.

"Well, before the fight, if you remember," Link said, "And fortunately the kill is only a couple days old. About now is when I'd be worrying about it. And we're moving upriver anyway."

"You said you've taken down one of these before?" Damien asked, looking at Link and Kilishandra.

"More than one, but they were Hylian varieties," Link said, "Like I said, these spotted ones are a lot bigger, plus look at the feet. Lionels you see in Hyrule have hooves, so you can hear them coming. These have cat paws, and can actually sneak up on you."

"Out on the sands of the desert, even the hooves can move quietly if they want," Areil said.

"I can't imagine something that big moving quietly," Damien said.

"All the more reason to stay well clear of them," Link said, then looked upstream, "Anyway, a few more days and we should be in safe territory. I'm glad we've managed to avoid trouble so far."

Other than the bodies further downriver, they had seen no sign of Narek natives thus far, and they all hoped that would continue. They were making good time as well, as Link had commented they had covered more ground than he'd expected by now.

Lance wondered what it would take to bring a beast like this down, only for his thoughts to be interrupted as Kilishandra stepped up beside him and tapped his arm with one hand.

"To our right, upriver," she said in a low voice, "Don't look directly or they'll notice. Act like you're looking at your father."

Lance did turn his head, turning to where Link was standing, then searching out of the corner of his eye. And there it was, standing between the trees about twenty feet away. In a white mask with matching robes, making them stand out rather clearly among the greenery.

Link turned around toward him, causing Lance to glance back to him. Sure enough, Link's eyes were to the side, also watching the figure indirectly.

"Like I said before, we'd need a group, at least fifteen or twenty men to bring one of these beasts down, and there would be casualties," Link said, glancing at Damien, then one again turning his eyes to the white robed figure.

They weren't moving.

Damien seemed to get the hint, glancing that way himself and spotting the figure.

It was strange, because the figure was just standing there in the open, not even attempting to be hidden. Being dressed all in white made it even more seem that they wanted to be seen.

Then lance spotted a small movement in the trees above the figure. The thick leaves parted just slightly, and he saw the white hair of one of the twins in the branches above the figure. The other was no doubt close by.

In fact, both Lilith and Natalya both were in the trees above the masked figure, looking down from opposite sides. Natalya raised her hand, getting Lilith's attention. She tapped her own chest, then made a twisting motion with her wrist while clenching her fingers into a fist. The signal that she would take the kill.

Lilith waved a negative and pointed to her own mouth. They needed to question this person. Of course, Natalya realized, perhaps this one would know what had become of the princess. In that case, a non-lethal take-down was called for.

In the positions they were in, she could make the drop straight onto the target. A good knock of their head into the ground should do it, and a concussion would be gentle compared to what she'd intended for a lethal strike. So she signaled Lilith, indicating she would drop first, and Lilith was to jump in if it did not work. Lilith nodded.

And with that, Natalya dropped silently from the tree toward the masked figure below. She landed exactly as intended, grabbing her victim's head and planting both feet down hard on their shoulders. Down they went at the sudden impact of her weight, the masked figure falling forward, and she added an additional jerk forward of their head as they hit the ground, slamming it even harder against the ground.

"What the hell..." she said, feeling her victim's skull giving under the impact like clay.

"Get away from them!" Link's voice shouted, already realizing what was happening.

Natalya looked up, seeing the group moving toward her, Link in front with his sword drawn.

This distraction was all it took, as the masked figure on the ground turned in her grasp, one arm coming up and struck her across the head. The world spun for Natalya as she flew through the air from the impact and crashed into a nearby tree before falling to the ground.

The masked figure rose to one knee, looking toward the rest of the group as they slowed, Link raising one hand for the others to stay back as he lowed to a walk.

The mask had been smashed to splinters by the impact, and the face looking out from beneath the remains was not the one Link had expected from the other evidence.

"You're not Zero," he said.

It was a woman's face, and one he didn't know. She smiled and brushed the remains of the mask away as she rose to her feet. As if to make that more clear, she threw off the hood and white cloak, revealing a plain traveler's outfit beneath, with a snug fitting tunic and trousers and good boots, but no visible weapons.

"Zero is the past," she said in a low and sultry voice, "I'm new and improved. You can call me Three."

"Oh, gods, that means there's more of them," Kilishandra muttered, then put one hand in front of Lance as he moved to step past her, "No, just wait for now."

Lance looked over at her, then back at the woman. He wanted to get to Natalya, who was still lying still on the ground where she landed.

"One chance is all you get," Link said, raising his sword and pointing the pure white blade toward Three, "Tell me what your friends did with the princess or I'll kill you."

"If I were you, I'd be more worried about myself," Three said.

Like a shadow dropping from the tree, Lilith suddenly fell onto Three, but she did not aim for non-lethal, and with a long knife in each hand drove both into Three's back behind her shoulders.

But Link knew that would have no effect. Three did not even cry out, and merely pushed back, this time refusing to go down from the impact, and spun to the side, throwing Lilith off her. Lilith did not hit a tree, instead rolling as she landed, rising quickly on to one knee about ten feet away. Her knifes were still sticking from Three's back.

"No blood?" Damien said, moving up beside Lance and Kilishandra, his hand on his own sword.

"She's not human," Kilishandra said, "Link and I have encountered her kind before."

"What is she then?" Areil asked, moving up behind them.

Kilishandra didn't get a chance to answer, as with a gleeful cry, Three rushed at Link. She was so fast, crossing the distance between them near instantly, causing Lance to gasp in surprise, but then saw his father turn and step out of the charge. In one smooth motion, he kicked Three's ankles, causing her to hit the ground face-first and her sheer momentum caused her to bounce into the air, rising over their heads.

"Back!" Kilishandra pushed Lance away and quickly raised both hands up toward the flying figure of Three. "_Daem!_" she shouted, the word of magic echoing around them and with a rush of wind that sounded more like the growl of beast, Three's direction was reversed as she was blasted by the invisible wave of force and flew higher into the branches above.

That particular spell favored speed over power, however. Kilishandra and Link knew it was unlikely to have done much harm to a creature such as this.

The branches above them rattled as Three managed to catch hold of one, changing her directly. All eyes were up, trying not to lose her as she moved. Her laughter could be heard above them.

"Link, that didn't even faze her," Kilishandra said, craning her neck to try to keep sight of Three.

"I see it," Link said, "Much as we need information, I doubt we can take her alive. You protect the kids while I draw her out."

"Kids?" Damien said, looking toward him.

"You heard me," Link said, "Now you three go see about Lilith and Natalya."

"I said you should be more worried about yourself!" Three shouted, and leaped down from the trees, coming down at Link like a shot from above.

The white blade of Link's sword flashed, and a cry of pain came from Three as she just as quickly leaped back from him. She looked at her right hand, which had been aiming to grasp his throat, to see all four fingers, excluding her thumb, had been cut clean from her hand, and trails of smoke rose from the nubs, as well as from the fingers themselves on the ground, where the blade had touched her flesh.

"So boss man was right," Three said, looking back to Link, "That sword can hurt me."

"I found out a while back it's just a simple enchantment," Link said, "Light infused into the blade. It was made to kill a shadow creature called a Twili, specifically one named Cain. But it works on freaks like you, too."

"Freak?" Three said with a sneer, "I'll have you know you're looking at being superior to humanity. The dawn of the new dominant species!"

Link sighed. "Oh, wow," he said dryly, "I've never heard that one before."

"My big brother did ask me to save some of you for him, but I don' t think I want to now!" Three said, and suddenly moved toward him again.

She stepped in, Link brought his sword up, and then she stepped again, almost faster than the eye could track, around to his other side. Bringing her fist up, only to cry out again as she punched directly into the sword, the blade splitting a line down the middle of her left hand, and she leaped back again.

"How did you…?" she growled, looking at her hand, now split in two.

"You're fast," Link said, "But you're predictable. You'd be lucky if you fooled a squire with a feint like that."

Lance rushed over to where Lilith had gone to her sister's side. "Are you two all right?" he asked as the others came up behind him.

"I'm fine," Lilith said, "Natalya, can you hear me?"

Natalya nodded. "Figured I should play dead for a moment," she said, opening her eyes, "I don't think anything's broken."

"Looks like you hit your head," Lance said, gently pushing her hair out of the way to see the blood above her eyes."

"Not bad," Natalya said, sitting up and pushing his arm away, "More of a scrape, really."

"If you're okay, then we can..." Damien started as he turned back around.

"Stay right there," Kilishandra said, "This will be over in a moment."

Areil stepped back in surprise, closer to the others. Kilishandra had her back to them, facing the fight just about fifteen feet away from them. Sparks of electricity danced across her body, all moving toward her right hand, where they were coalescing into a visible globe of sparking energy.

"What magic is this?" Areil whispered.

"Link is holding his own, but at this rate it will take too long, he'll tire before he can cut this creature down," Kilishandra said, "I'm going to end it in one shot."

Meanwhile another clash resulted in yet more damage to Three, while Link remained untouched. Her left arm was hanging limply at her side, over a dozen different cuts in it, many large pieces hanging by nothing more than a scrap of her inhuman flesh.

"What's the matter?" Link asked, "I haven't done that much to you. Zero would of regenerated all that in seconds."

"You mock me?!" Already Three's smugness was falling apart, turning into a rage, "I'm going to kill you!"

"You've done a piss-poor job of it so far," Link said, pointing the tip of his sword at her, "So much for new and improved. You're disappointing in every regard. Can't believe I'm about to compliment Zero, but you are nothing compared to him. He is actually dangerous."

With an inarticulate scream, Three ran for him.

But all other eyes were fixed on Kilishandra at that time, as the ball of sparking energy in her right hand continued to grow. Now she closed her fingers on it, and it changed shape. Instantly becoming as a long white haft and shaping into the head of a war-hammer. It was ludicrously large, in the sense that if it were made of metal, no normal human could possibly lift it. Sparks of lightning jumped across its surface as she raised it out to her side.

"What is that?" Lance asked, never having seen a spell like this before.

"Something new I've been working on," Kilishandra said, "Lightning is powerful, but imprecise. Imagine now the power of a bolt of lightning concentrated in my hand. I call it the Hammer of Glory."

She put her left foot forward, taking a wide stance and turning her left side toward the fight, both hands coming to her right, gripping the haft of the hammer of lightning.

"Link, to me!" she shouted.

Without a second's hesitation, without even looking, Link turned the momentum of Three's latest charge at him against her, tripping her and bouncing her off the ground again, and she sailed into the air much as before.

She spun through the air, only just catching the sight of Kilishandra planting her feet and raising the hammer.

"Cover your ears!" Kilishandra shouted, and then swung the hammer.

The flat of the hammer connected with Three's torso, and then Three was gone. The sound was thunder like lightning had struck this very location, and a wave of force exploded from the point of contact. Even with their hands over their ears, the others all grit their teeth at the loudness of the blast, and the force nearly knocking them from their feet.

The hammer itself vanished, its energy spent in a single impact, but there were not even pieces of Three to rain down. She had been completely erased in a single shot.

"My damn ears," Areil groaned, the ringing barely letting her hear her own voice.

"That'll pass in a few minutes," Kilishandra said, taking deep breaths. While not the most powerful spell she could cast, it certainly took her energy to use it. She had certainly fallen out of practice over the past two decades.

"We might have been able to take her alive after all," Link said as he walked toward the others, returning his sword to its sheathe, "I think I vastly overestimated her."

"Better that than the other way," Kilishandra said.

"You okay?" Link asked, looking toward Natalya as she climbed to her feet.

"I'll live," she said.

"Well, there's still one question," Link said, turning back to Kilishandra, "Where's the big brother she mentioned?"

* * *

Nothing was sticking. For every blow Bannon dealt to Four, the creature just regenerated in seconds. And every so often, Four would slip a punch through, and Bannon felt it. Just now another punch connected with his chest and he was launched backward to crash into a tree, knocking the wind from him.

"Are you seeing it yet?" Four shouted triumphantly, "I'm stronger than you! Faster than you! I was made to kill you!"

Bannon smiled, and kicked a fallen log on the ground in front of himself. The force of the kick sent the log into the air. Four lunched at it, punching directly through the hollow log, smashing it in half in front of himself and straight at Bannon.

But Bannon was gone and Four's fist struck directly into the tree. Pulling his hand free of the shattered wood, Four looked around for where he had gone.

"What's the matter?" he shouted, "Decided to run now? You won't get far, I promise!"

Princess Zelda had been watching the fight, every traded blow and struggle, and had come to the same conclusion. As inhumanly strong as he was, Banon was going to lose. Now she hid behind a nearby tree, praying Four would go the other direction from her. She could still hear him shouting.

"Come on, you've lived for thousands of years! Must be getting boring now, right? What's left to live for? Aside from your misery, what do you have to lose?"

Zelda cautiously took a step, careful not to make a sound, to get away from this lunatic.

Her heart nearly stopped as a hand suddenly grabbed around her face, covering her mouth and pulling her back onto the ground.

"I'll make it quick, I promise! Come back out! You must know you can't beat me by now!"

Zelda's heart was racing, but she did feel relieved it was Bannon that grabbed her, not Four.

"Gods, the ego on this one," Bannon whispered, "But he's right, I can't win. Not like this."

Zelda wanted to ask what he intended to do, but Bannon's hand over her mouth was still too tight for her to speak.

"It's okay, I'm still going to get you out of here," Bannon whispered to her, "I didn't expect you to have to see this side of me this soon, or this way."

What? What was he talking about, she wondered, and felt her heart thump harder as he pulled her back against his chest, close enough she could feel his icy breath on her neck.

"I need some of your blood," he whispered, "Not much. Just a mouthful."

What the hell? What was he…

Zelda's blood turned to ice as he undid the neck of her tunic, pulling it down over her left shoulder, exposing her skin to the air.

"This will only hurt for a second," he whispered.

She couldn't see what he was doing, but his head leaned down beside her, and she cried out into his hand, barely audible as his teeth pinched a piece of her skin painfully. Then she felt him sucking on her skin, and felt the pain as she knew he had bit a hole in her skin to get exactly what he had said.

As for Bannon, the taste of blood was like a shot of heat into his icy body. The warmth spreading rapidly as he swallowed it, and then he felt his long dead heart begin to beat again.

As he pulled his head back, he took a cloth from his pocket, putting it on Zelda's shoulder. "Hold this here," he said, his breath on her neck having turned from icy to hot, "I'll be back in just a moment."

He released his grip on her and stood up, stepping back out toward the still shouting Four.

Zelda cautiously lifted the cloth from her shoulder, looking at the bite. It was a single red hole in her skin, like he'd just pinched the skin between his front teeth and tore it off. She pushed the cloth back down, cautiously standing up and looking around the tree. She gasped at the change in Bannon's appearance.

Like a great mane of a lion, long red hair now fell of his head, but it seemed to defy logic, rising and waving in the air despite there being no wind, and it seemed to glow with an unnatural light. A matching red beard wrapped across his face, and his eyes also seemed to have taken an unnatural glow as well.

"Found the last shred of your courage after…?" Four said, turning toward Bannon as he openly approached, only to trail off upon seeing the change himself. "What the hell?"

"You wanted Ganondorf," Bannon growled, and threw his arms wide, "You've got him. You now face the King of Darkness in the flesh."

Four smiled and let out a chuckle. "Doesn't matter how much hair you glue to your bald head, you're still no match for me!"

He rushed at Bannon, fist pulled back, and struck. It happened so fast, Zelda almost didn't see it. Bannon raised one hand and there was a flash of light. Four cried out in pain for the first time, staggering back. His right hand was gone, his arm shaking as he stared at the stump, and it wasn't growing back.

"What the hell?!" Four shouted.

With a wordless roar, Bannon struck Four with his right hand, fingers open and crooked into claws. There was another flash of light on the impact. Four screamed again, falling back onto the ground. Zelda's eyes went wide. Four's entire left shoulder and arm were gone.

Four tried to move away, pushing back with his legs, his eyes fixed on the grinning monster's face before him.

"What's wrong?" Bannon shouted, following him with slow steps, "Weren't you going to kill me? Weren't you stronger than me? You're a newer model than Zero, right? So you should be stronger than him! Grow back your limbs! Get on your feet! Hit me! Fight me! What are you waiting for?!"

"Get away from me, you demon!" Four screamed, the terror in his voice clear. He shivered as he lay there on the ground, Bannon looking down at him.

Bannon's smile slowly faded. If Four were still capable of sweating, he would be drenched. But all he could do was shake, the icy fear that had come so suddenly covering him completely. A few seconds ago, he had been assured of his victory, and now he was in mortal fear for his life.

"I see," Bannon said, his voice much softer, but no less dangerous, "So that's how it is. Zero could not be controlled. So he made you weaker than him on purpose. And he lied to you about your own power. You were nothing more than a pawn, sent to test me, while he watched."

"I… I was just a tool?" Four said, his voice barely above a whisper, "But I gave up everything… I gave up my entire life to become this..."

"You're right," Bannon said, and lifted one hand, spreading his fingers wide, palm straight toward Four, whose eyes went wide in fear, "You have."

Another explosion of bright light came from Bannon's hand, and when it vanished, Four was gone. A black scorch mark on the ground was all that remained. A few seconds later, the glowing red hair faded from Bannon, and in a moment, he was the same bald and shaven main Zelda had first met a few days ago.

"You can come out now," Bannon said, "We're safe."

Zelda slowly stepped out from behind the tree. Every instinct she had was telling her to run. But logic told her she wouldn't survive if she did.

"You're him," she said, "You're really the King of Darkness from the legend."

Bannon nodded. "I am," he said.

"You're a demon after all..." she said.

Bannon shook his head and turned, looking back down toward the scorch mark on the ground.

"No," he said softly, "I'm something else."


End file.
